Surviving This
by Solain Rhyo
Summary: To ensure her survival within the pyramid, Lex must now learn to trust both of the hunters in order to outwit and outlive their prey. COMPLETE.
1. One

**Author's Note: **_This is my first ever attempt at writing AVP. Please let me know what you think. _

**xXx**

And just like that, I was left very, very alone.

Sebastian's last cry was echoing wildly through my head, and as I lay prone and motionless at the every edge of the abyss I had just pulled myself from the sound of my own breathing replaced the last vestiges of his voice. Fast, strangled gasps wracked my body, and I could feel panic clawing its way up my throat, making it even harder to breathe. I was alone, so alone, and the more I dwelt on that the more I realized how utterly screwed I was. One human in the midst of an alien war—and with those aliens being spectacularly hostile—I only had to recall the recently dead that had been among my group to come to terms with how very defenseless I was against both the hunters and their prey.

I had started to cry somewhere along my terrified train of thought; warm tears were falling swiftly from eyes and running along my cheeks. The cold and excessive dryness of the air had chapped my skin to such a degree that the tears stung bitterly, which prompted me to cry even more. I couldn't do this, I _couldn't—_how the hell could I ever survive? I had known that Sebastian and I had a slim to none chance of making it even in the company of each other, but now that I was on my own without another human to have for support …

I have never felt as desolate, as hopelessly lost and doomed, as I did then.

My tears were on the verge of becoming full fledged hysterical sobs, but I couldn't afford a breakdown, not here. I took deep shuddering breaths and forced myself to think of something—_anything—_other than the creatures I knew stalked the shadowed halls all around me. How much time passed then I don't know, but when I was able to make at least some semblance of coherent thought I clenched my fists tightly and steeled myself. I had to go on; waiting here was certain death, and I still clung with bleak hope to the plan I had laid out to Sebastian: find the humanoid, and give it back its weapon.

And pray that after I did so, it wouldn't butcher me the way it had everyone else.

So I went, deeper into the black, yawning depths of the corridor that loomed before me, one trembling step at a time. I could hardly see a foot in front of my face, and the darkness that lurked on either side of me could have hidden any of the things I was so terrified of encountering. Time ceased to have meaning, and when finally I stepped into a different room that was for some reason considerably brighter, the rush of sudden relief I felt was staggering.

And then I caught sight of the ancient, withered corpses cradled within the niches scattered throughout the room and I realized how very stupid it was to be relieved that I now occupied a room with more light. My throat grew tight again and my eyes prickled with yet more tears; fighting off a fresh and more vigorous wave of panic I glanced at my watch compass, in desperate need of guidance. A sound that was a cross between a bitter laugh and an anguished sob escaped me then; the face of my compass was shattered, broken somewhere within the last hellish hour of my life. The urge to sink to my knees and beg God for mercy was almost overwhelming; my knees had half buckled when I felt a shudder claw its way up my spine. Intuition, something I never thought to trust implicitly, prompted me to turn slowly and fearfully around.

I whimpered then, for standing before me was one of the hunters. As I completed my turn he raised the arm holding his sophisticated spear with deliberate, menacing slowness. The spear extended suddenly, noisily, and I couldn't help the frightened sound that left me. The hunter snarled at me; it was unmistakably threatening, and as he began to advance I threw both my arms out in a gesture of supplication.

"_Wait!"_ I cried. The creature halted, still gripping the spear as if he'd impale me with it. I sank to my knees, reaching behind to remove from my pack the weapon we had found in the pyramid's interior. As I did so I whispered fervently, over and over and hoping it to be true, "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

Hand fumbling, I secured the weapon, and leaning forward on my knees I thrust it across the stone floor in his direction. It stopped at his feet, but he didn't bend to pick it up. Instead he hoisted the spear—

Movement from above caught my eye; I gasped as one of the other creatures, a black and vile thing, spilled onto the hunter from it's perch on the stone ceiling. Both went smashing into a wall; the impact knocked the spear from the hunter's grip and sent it skittering towards me. There were a million voices within my own mind shrieking at me to run get away, far away from here—to flee headlong from these two battling monstrosities and take my chances elsewhere. All I could do, however, was stand dumbly where I was and watch the struggle unfold.

The alien was horrifically fascinating to watch; the incredible speed and power it possessed was astounding. The hunter was trapped beneath the alien, and the deadly tail of the loathsome beast came down again and again in quick succession, attempting to impale him. Abruptly the hunter turned the tables, casting the alien from him and sending it hurtling through the air. I screamed as it impacted with the wall beside me, making the ancient stone crumble; for a moment the creature lay there, stunned. The hunter was making use of this recess to attach the weapon I had returned to him. As the alien thrashed about, coming to its feet, I edged away, not wanting to attract its attention ...

With a horrific screech the creature propelled itself into the hunter again, and the deadly dance began once more. As they grappled, as the infuriated roars of the hunter mingled in chaotic cadence with the shrieks of the alien, I realized that if I remained I was most certainly dead. Moving on numb legs I lurched forward to where the forgotten spear lay, and bent quickly to retrieve it. I cast another terrified glance at the two otherworldly combatants.

And then I turned on my heel and fled.

**xXx**

I ran wildly, heedlessly, twisting and turning through corridors and rooms, coming to dead ends and whirling around to find another way. I was afraid that if I stopped I would be suddenly surrounded, immediately devoured, and so I pushed on. It was only when my lungs burnt so badly I saw spots, only when my agonized muscles protested that I began to slow, and I came to a stumbling halt in the middle of a small, shadowed antechamber. For a moment all I could do was take swift, deep breaths, doubled over with the spear in one hand. When I could straighten without shooting pains racing up and down my sides I glanced around. Seconds passed before I realized that this place seemed familiar; ludicrous really, when you took into account the fact that this temple shifted periodically and never remained structurally the same.

My feeling of familiarity was ascertained when I spotted in the darkest corner a large body. I knew what it was by the massive build and excessive musculature that even in the lack of light was evident; it was one of the other hunters. The skull which it had worn high upon its shoulders told me it was the hunter that had kicked me so savagely when I had attempted to grab my mining pick in order to aid Sebastian; seconds later I had watched it die a gruesome death impaled on the tail of one of the aliens. This must be the room that I had been in earlier, but reshaped and reformed. I was about to move onwards, into another area, when I realized that while this hunter had tried to kill me earlier, it would still have weapons; in this three sided war I would need them more than any of the other participants.

And so I knelt, setting the spear down and poking the corpse gingerly with one shaking finger. It remained motionless, though I half expected it to react; I rolled it onto its back with a grunt, for it was heavy. I stared for a moment at the dully reflective surface of the hunter's mask, so impassive while simultaneously being incredibly menacing. What lay beyond that mask, I wondered, and had actually raised my hands to attempt to remove it before I realized what I was doing. I dropped them instantly, deciding perhaps it would be better not to know what natural visage the hunters bore. Instead I ran my gaze over the corpse and located almost instantly a knife in a calf sheath. I withdrew it carefully. It was a wicked looking blade, curved and jagged, and while it was a small weapon it gave me a considerable measure of comfort just to hold it.

Noises from beyond the chamber snapped my attention back to the dilemma at hand. I rose quickly, the knife in one hand and the spear in the other. There was only a small tunnel aside from the archway I had entered, and said tunnel filled me with a thick and heavy foreboding. The sounds, however, had come from beyond the archway … I stood still, glancing between them both and torn with indecision when suddenly I realized my problems had increased tenfold.

Shaping himself out of the air, revealing himself, was the hunter I had stolen the spear from. And I didn't have to interpret his feral snarl to know he wasn't pleased with me.

**xXx**


	2. Two

**xXx**

It's funny how the mind works when one is utterly and absolutely terrified. Face to face with this massive hunter, this inimical predator, I began to notice with detached interest small and insignificant things—the myriad of small bones and strange skulls that hung from the creature's belt; my own frightened reflection in the metallic eyes of his mask, and the trio of red dots shining from the left side of his helmet. An instant later I realized what those dots were, and very slowly I looked down to find an identical crimson laser sight centered on my chest.

_What did you truly expect? _Questioned my inner voice with slightly hysterical irony. I had, after all, given him back his gun. Stupid to think that the enemy of my enemy would be my friend—who was the _real _enemy, anyways? And now he'd found me here, taking weapons from his dead comrade … The cannon on his shoulder moved with the high pitched whine of machinery, focusing in on me—there was to be no mercy, no pity …

I did the only thing I could think of doing. I hurled his spear at him with a frantic cry. It wasn't a good throw, nor was it accurate; the spear struck a glancing blow off the side of his helmet. He turned his head to look at the spear where it had clattered to the floor and then looked back to me where I stood trembling. He shook his head, hair-like appendages flying, and emitted a low trilling sound.

_Laughter._

The prick was laughing at me.

Of all the reactions I'd expected, amusement wasn't one of them, and it made me irrationally angry. To be laughed at, on top of everything that had happened within the last four hours, was insult to serious injury, and in a sudden fit of rage I threw with all my might the knife I had so recently attained. Fueled by my ire, it soared end over end to nick the side of his upper right arm. Neon green blood sprayed lightly in its wake, and the noise the predator was making became distinctly unpleasant. The cannon moved again, and with a sound of despair I made a lunge for the tunnel. Something blue exploded in my vision, and I was thrown back—_hard—_into the wall. My head connected with enough force to leave me breathless, and for a moment all I could do was lie limply where I had fallen and concentrate on making my eyes come into focus.

Bad idea, for when they did they saw the predator towering over me, and again the red dots had honed in on my chest. I wheezed something—I don't know what—and raised a shaking hand in futile defense. Again came the sound of his amusement, and I closed my eyes tightly.

_Would it hurt? _

Abruptly a breathy shriek tore through my ears, and opening my eyes again I watched as the predator removed—one handed—an alien from where it had draped itself violently over his shoulder and threw it savagely into the tunnel. The alien struck the sides of the wall and shuddered stones loose as it disappeared from sight. The hunter strode determinedly after it, canon firing once, twice; I climbed painfully to my feet, grasping the wall for support. An agonized scream ripped forth from the tunnel, but I didn't turn to look. Instead I half-stumbled, half-crawled to the spear where it lay, grasped it, and took off at a staggering run down the corridor from whence I had came. I made it to a corner before I had to stop, leaning heavily on the spear and trying to calm my breathing enough to listen for sounds of pursuit. Only the furious thunder of my heart echoed in my ears, and as I made to turn and run again movement caught my eye. The predator was approaching in quick savage strides. As his laser sight danced across the floor towards me I spun about and pelted down the hall I had so recently come from. Praying silently, fervently, I hurtled around another corner—

-and fell back as one of the black aliens reared up before me. I screamed and back-pedaled, coming up hard against the wall. This close I could see the needle-like teeth that lined its slavering maw, could smell the overwhelming acrid stench of its breath. It leapt at me and unthinking I thrust the spear out before me. Searing pain pooled immediately down the length of my arm and the alien's weight sent me skidding hard across the rough floor. I hadn't let go of the spear, and as I lay prone beneath the snapping double jaws of the creature that cold length of metal was the only thing separating me from death. Sobbing in eerie silence I heaved upwards with all my strength, shoving the monster away while it was still pinioned upon the spear. As I gained my feet it gave a final, horrendous screech before falling very still.

I let go of the spear and walked numbly backwards, all the while struggling to compute the fact that I had killed one of the demons, one of the monsters. _Me_. Alone. I began to laugh, but it wasn't a happy sound. It was the sound of me caving into my fear. _You should run_, the part of my brain that wasn't in shock said matter-of-factly, _the predator is coming…_

And true to form, there he was, having just come around the corner. He glanced from the corpse of the alien and to me, and then back again.

"Yeah, I killed it," I muttered with weary belligerence. I didn't bother fleeing, although every part of me was screaming that perhaps I should if I wanted to survive. The predator took one step towards me and then the world began to shake; the heavy rumbling flowed over us both as the pyramid began to reconfigure itself. A thick slab of granite began to rise up between the hunter and I, separating us, and I went weak with relief. I watched through the shrinking window as the predator removed the spear with one fluid movement from the alien corpse and then turned to me ….

… and tossed it. It wasn't a throw meant to kill; I caught it easily one handed. And then I could see him no more for the wall that had risen before me; effectively I was alone once more. For long minutes I stood there, stunned by what had just happened.

The predator had known I was defenseless, and he had given me his weapon. A sign of respect, or a promise he would inevitably find me and finish me off? I had no way of knowing. It would have been more comforting, if only I was sure a weapon could guarantee my survival.

It was a long time before I began to move once again.

**xXx**


	3. Three

**xXx**

The burning sensation I'd felt after impaling the alien on the spear, I discovered, was just that—my forearm being burned. The putrid green blood of the alien was highly corrosive and had dissolved almost completely the left arm of my both my jacket, thick wool shirt, and heavy thermal undershirt. Laying the spear down I removed my jacket and attempted to roll up my singed sleeve. The resulting agony almost dropped me to my knees; the fabric had been melted into my own skin. Biting down on my lip hard I wrenched both shirts away from my flesh, and couldn't help the muted cry that escaped me. Breathing hard, I tenderly probed the wound and winced. It was beginning to ache in the way all burns did—a consistent, edged throbbing that grew more and more acute. I had no water to cleanse it with, no antibiotics; I knelt, casting a nervous glance around to make sure I was still alone, and withdrew from my jacket pockets the roll of gauze I had packed before embarking into the ruins.

Binding my arm was a painful affair. Once it was done I eased my sleeves down again and donned my coat. As if acknowledging that I had dealt with one wound, the rest of my body began to complain; reaching around I touched with one finger the area where my head had met with the stone wall. It was swollen, and even the remote feel of my finger sent me staggering into another wall with a wave of vertigo. Quite suddenly my stomach roiled, and the next moment I was on my knees, retching. Once I had emptied my stomach of its contents I crawled to the spear, gripped it, and slowly stood. For a long moment I just stood there, willing my dizziness to fade, willing my body to hold itself together so that maybe, just maybe, I could make it out of here alive.

A sound came to me then, muffled through the stone—it was the predator's cannon firing, and I could here the scream of the alien it destroyed. I waited until I could hear no more before I began to walk, leaning heavily on the spear. I had contemplated remaining in one place but I knew that it would be futile, for eventually either the hunter or the aliens would find me and I wasn't certain which I wanted to face. I wandered for long hours as silently as I could, meandering throughout the constantly reshaping temple. Whatever luck I did have held, for I encountered nothing that entire time. It was not long before I began to be both ravenously hungry and insanely thirsty. I had several high-nutrition bars in my inner jacket pockets, but no water—Sebastian had carried one of the canteens and the rest had been with party members now dead and gone. Deciding a break was in order, I took out one of the bars, unwrapped it, and began to devour it. Swallowing thickly, I let my eyes wander the corridor around me, and abruptly stopped chewing as I saw what appeared to be a large opening in the rock not too far away. The edges around it seemed to have been melted, as though shaped by some sort of intense heat, and the actual opening led into a tunnel.

My intuition was wreaking havoc once again, but I gripped the spear white-knuckled and approached the tunnel. Steam rose from the sides, and after walking several paces in I saw something lying on the ground that made me catch my breath. Miller's digital camera lay face down, and as I grabbed it something warm and incredibly viscous encompassed my gloved fingers. Hastily I snatched them back and wiped them on my pants; whether it was alien saliva or mucous, I didn't want it touching me. I began to walk further into the strange tunnel, more wary now. I strained my hearing but could hear only my shallow breathing and tentative steps. The passage curved gently and I followed, and found myself then in a large chamber. Everywhere I could see were large brown egg shaped things … when I realized they were in fact eggs, my earlier conversation with Sebastian came rushing back to me. We—humans—were what the aliens needed to breed …

I turned my head to survey my surroundings, and as my eyes focused on a pair of slime covered shoes I couldn't stop the despairing sob that left me. Slowly my gaze traveled upwards to take in the gaping, bloodied wound in the torso, to discern the slack, anguished features of Graeme Miller. I had no time to grieve for him; movement twisted my head back around. Perched atop a stone dais was one of the black aliens, but this one was considerably smaller than the others I had encountered earlier. It was roughly as high as my knee, and it regarded me with its large, slender head angled to the side. I clutched at the spear, brought it up to bear, and as I did so the alien twitched.

Maybe it wouldn't attack. Maybe it was too young—

Not so, and even as those thoughts flew through my brain it launched itself at me. I whirled aside and it struck the ground in a skittering roll, but was on its feet and coming for me _fast._ I thrust out with the spear, missed, and shouted as the vile thing hit me midsection. I went down with it on top of me, claws raking my arms and jaws snapping. The small tail whipped all around us in a frenzy; with strength borne of utter desperation I seized it by its scrawny neck and threw it off of me with all my might. It struck the dais it had leaped from; I stood and approached with the spear held tightly in both hands. The young alien was moving as though stunned, making a warbling shriek, and as it caught sight of me I impaled it directly and savagely through the head. It made no noise as it died—simply fell limp and curled in on itself as a spider does when its life is spent. With one foot on its head I wrenched the spear free, careful to avoid the splatter of its blood. I opened my mouth to say something tough, something witty and triumphant belying the fact that my body trembled, when another sound caught my attention.

It was a choked whisper saying my name.

"No," I moaned, for I knew that voice. And pivoting about, I saw him, saw Sebastian, mired to the wall just as Graeme had been. His head wobbled, as though he had not enough strength to hold it upright, and his skin was a sickly greyish white. "Sebastian," I breathed, horrified, and ran to stand before him.

"Lex …" he gasped, face contorting, "Help me …"

"I'm going to get you out of there," I said thickly, dropping the spear and wrapping my gloved fingers about the sticky strands that had him imprisoned. He shook his head wildly.

"Kill me, Lex," He cried, body writhing, "Please!"

I hesitated for a moment. I could hear the unmistakable noise of bones being broken, and knew that even now within him was a creature fighting for release. Sebastian screamed my name; I picked up the spear and drove it with all I had into the center of him. His final, shuddering sigh mingled with a cry like nails on a chalkboard—the last sound the creature within him would ever make. As Sebastian's head sank down to rest on his chest, as his body relaxed in death, I heard someone weeping softly and realized it was me.

"I'm sorry, so sorry," I whispered numbly, curling my trembling hands around the spear and pulling it free. The pointed end was covered in crimson and green, a gruesome testament to the two lives I had just taken. Struggling not to erupt into full scale sobs, I reached up through the muck and felt around Sebastian's sides for his canteen. After several seconds of fumbling I found it, and with a jerk I snapped the cord that bound it to him. I could hear the water sloshing around within it, and such a small thing seemed so great in the face of what I had just done. Both hands full, I gave Sebastian one last anguished glance before I turned to leave the way I had come.

I knew, even before I'd moved full circle, what would be standing there. Just like last time, my intuition warned me. I didn't make a sound as I came face to face with the predator, nor did I move. I stood there with his spear in one hand and the canteen and the other and simply waited.

His head was cocked to the side; it gave him a curious air, and I knew then he had seen all that had just transpired. Had he wanted to strike me down then and there, he could have without incident for I simply did not have the will to struggle. Instead a noise that reminded me of a purring cat came from behind that impassive mask, and he pointed with one clawed finger to something beyond me. I craned my neck to see what he was indicating; it was the corpse of the young alien. Facing him again, I nodded my affirmation that I had indeed killed it. He emitted another clicking rumble and stepped past me to kneel by the alien. Glancing back at me, he reached out and snapped from the alien body one long, curled finger. Not entirely certain what he was doing, I began to unconsciously back away. The predator affixed the finger to his belt with a length of wire before cocking his head again at the corpse of Sebastian. Apparently he was satisfied with what he saw, for he spun about and strode right past me. I stared after him, bemused and more than a little anxious. He stopped at the tunnel entrance and turned to me, giving a barking growl, and though I understood him not I knew instinctively what question he was asking.

It was an invitation to run at his side, to accompany him through these depths that I had to this point survived in only through sheer dumb luck. I hesitated only a moment; though I was not certain he would not do me harm in the future, I held a much better chance of surviving while in his company. And so I crossed the distance between us, and when he made another growl I nodded my head. For one moment longer he looked down on me from the expressionless countenance of his mask, and then he began to run.

And I, feeling a small spark of hope, followed close behind him.

**xXx**


	4. Four

**xXx**

I have prided myself, for the better part of my life, on being in shape. My hobbies—indeed, my very career—have dictated that I must be. But after almost an hour of keeping pace with the eight foot, solidly and excessively muscled hunter, I was on the verge of collapse. He navigated the shifting temple with such ease that I was certain he had some method of determining our heading and direction, not to mention an unerring familiarity with the walls and rooms that continually reshaped themselves. One would expect a creature that large and bulky to move without grace and speed; I was amazed at the agility with which the predator led the way. Every now and then he would slow to a halt and cock his head to the side, a gesture I was beginning to recognize as intense regard or curiosity; he would then cast an inscrutable glance back at me as if to ascertain I hadn't dropped dead, and begin to run again.

I followed him doggedly, still clutching his spear, the water bottle I'd tied across my body thumping against my thigh in rhythm to my rough gait. I'd gone above and beyond my own limit of endurance during this escapade; my vision had begun to swim and a sharp, lancing pain was racing up my sides when finally the hunter stopped again. I staggered to a walk and then collapsed weakly against a wall, breathing hard. I simply could not go any further, and so I dropped to a crouch and let my head hang between my knees. There came from the hunter his chittering noise; I looked up wearily to see him gesture with one closed fist to a passage to the right. I hoisted myself up with more than a little difficulty and tottered to the side once I was standing. My companion, regarding me, let out a gravely growl that clearly seemed to indicate his disdain.

"Yeah, up yours," I muttered, disheartened. Perhaps if he grew impatient with me, he'd leave me behind, and I did not want that. For the first time in God-knew-how-many-hours, I felt safe, and it was all because of the massive presence that was leading me through this nightmarish labyrinth. No further sound was made on his behalf, but when he continued moving he did so at a slower walk, for which I was thoroughly grateful. We hadn't gone very far when the pyramid began to shift; so used to this occurrence was I that I stopped in the shadow of my companion and merely waited. When the commotion around us had ceased, however, the predator gave a thoroughly disgusted snarl; it took me only a moment to realize the cause of his irritation.

We were currently standing within a room with no exits.

And, I noticed upon further inspection, said room was not very large. I took this newest occurrence as an opportunity for me to rest; I walked to a corner and sank down cross-legged, laying the spear across my lap. The hunter was examining a stone slab decorated with the image of an alien on the opposite side of the room, looking for another way out, perhaps. I unscrewed the top from the canteen, took a small drink, thoroughly savoured it, and took another. All the while I watched my guide as he moved about, studying our temporary prison and continuously emitting his rattling purr I was fast becoming familiar with. I gave into my weariness then and let my eyes close; it would only be for a moment, I told myself …

I was rudely jolted out of my daze by something hitting me square in the forehead. _Hard_. A small rock bounced into my lap, and at the same time I heard the unmistakable laughter of the hunter. Clutching my forehead, I glared up at him through eyes that watered in pain. He had another rock in hand and made sure I saw it.

"What the hell?" I demanded, coming to my feet.

His strange hair rose and fell as he shook his head and he let the rock drop. He pointed once at the image of the alien on the stone wall, pointed to me, and then back at the alien. I understood suddenly; I couldn't afford to let my guard down even for a moment in this place. I nodded, all the while contemplating casting my own stone when next his back was turned.

"Up yours," said a tinny, somewhat distorted voice, and a second later I realized it was _my_ voice—_my_ words coming from the hunter. He was mimicking back to me what I'd said earlier, as if knowing about my rock throwing fantasies and warning me against them. Disgruntled, I snapped, "Neat trick."

"Neat trick," He echoed again in my voice, and his low rumble of amusement immediately followed the words.

While his entertainment was solely at my expense, it did serve to lighten the mood. Still acutely aware of the fact that he could crush my head between his giant fingers, my apprehension of the hunter had faded somewhat in the face of his rather one sided humor. Not only that, but I began to feel more confident, more secure. Perhaps we would make it out of here alive.

What would happen to me once I left the temple, however, was another matter completely that I had no wish to dwell on.

Minutes ticked past, and cautious of further projectiles being hurled I leaned against the wall and kept my eyes wide open. The hunter resumed his scrutiny of our chamber, and when they pyramid began to move again he barked an order at me as before him the stone slab rose. I hurried to comply and was right on his heels as he stepped through into another chamber—

-and abruptly halted. I barely managed not to bump into him. He roared, a sound I hadn't rightly heard in all its strength before, and it wasn't a nice sound. From his gauntleted wrist two large, wickedly curved blades suddenly protruded, and I eased around him to see what exactly the problem was.

Oh.

Aliens. Two of them, large and screeching and completely focused on the hunter and I. They were on us before I really had time to react; I was thrown backwards into the chamber I'd just left; the now terribly familiar double mouths were snapping at me, and the only thing that stopped them from connecting was the length of the spear I wedged between the teeth. Claws were rending my arms, and the sharp, deadly tail hovered above, waiting, waiting—

The alien's saliva flowed into my face, obscuring my eyes and covering my nose; the stench was so foul I struggled not to gag. My arms, holding the spear, began to shake as the alien bore down on me, and I cried out as those deadly, needle like teeth snapped shut near my face time and time again. I couldn't win this struggle, I _couldn't—_I wasn't strong enough. I pulled my knees in close to my chest, and thrust out with my feet hard and fast and with enough force to propel the alien off of me. Distantly I could register the sound of the predator's cannon firing, but none of that mattered now. All that was important was the ebony monster that stood slavering in front of me. My grip on the spear was tenuous now; the alien's saliva had coated its length almost entirely and it slid in my grasp. When the beast leaped at me I struck out and it was a good blow; the barbed end of my weapon tore through the alien's right side, and the spray from the wound splattered my body as the spear was ripped from my hands. I whirled away, tearing frantically at my sizzling jacket and trying to keep the shrieking alien in my sights …

It exploded then in a burst of radiant blue; the predator stood in the entryway, laser sights on my now dead combatant. I managed to get my jacket off and let it fall, watching with some dismay as the left sleeve and most of the front dissolved beneath my gaze. The hunter, having retrieved the spear, chittered at me and approached, holding the weapon out for me to take. It took me several tries to take it from his grasp as my hands were trembling so violently; you'd think a person would get used to being attacked by vicious creatures from another planet after a while.

Head tilted to the side, my companion rumbled deep in his chest and placed one large, solid hand on my shoulder. For a moment I could only stare terrified into the mirror-like surface of his mask … was he going to break my neck and rid himself of me here and now? But then his hand was gone, and he indicated with a nod of his head at the smoking alien corpse before raising the other hand, tightly fisted, and thumping it on his chest. Utterly bewildered, I watched as he repeated the gesture, pointed to the alien, and then placed his hand once more on my shoulder. Abruptly I realized what he was doing; he was telling me I'd done well in my struggle against the alien, that I'd put up a good fight.

"Thanks," I mumbled, disconcerted. My trembling having subsided somewhat, I knelt by my jacket and rifled through the pockets that were still intact for things I may need, and stuffed said things in my pants pockets and belt pouches. Standing, I saw the predator prying a long, curved tooth free from the alien body, being careful to avoid the blood. Like the finger I'd seen him take earlier, he tied the tooth to his belt with a length of wire. I shook my head, confused, and stepped into the new chamber I had been so forcefully expelled from. There were two alien carcasses here, exposed innards burning holes through the stone floor; apparently another had appeared after I'd been removed. A glint of metal caught my eye not far from where I stood; it was the hunter's long knife that he carried in a sheath on his leg, and I stooped to pick it up. As he came through the door I handed it to him before turning to survey the area.

"Thanks," said my voice back at me, and I couldn't help the small smile that crept across my face. You could say whatever you wanted about my new traveling companion, but you couldn't deny he had a sense of humor.

**xXx**


	5. Five

**xXx**

We didn't resume our march immediately, for the predator set about dismembering his most recent kills. I stood not far off and watched in morbid fascination as he meticulously removed every long clawed finger from the corpses, snapping them off at the joints, and strung them together to hang on his belt along with all his other grisly and grotesque paraphernalia. When he began prying the teeth free with his knife blade, however, I decided I'd seen enough of this to last me a life time and made a pointed effort to look anywhere but at the hunter and his trophy collecting. I recalled all Sebastian had related to me, that the race of predators had made these temples on earth to serve as rites of passage, and I wondered if the hunter with me had passed said rite. Sebastian and I had both watched as earlier he had marked himself with the caustic alien blood of his first kill—did the mark symbolize ascension to a new rank?

Behind me the hunter rumbled away like a contented cat, which seemed to fit because I strongly suspected he was enjoying his macabre duties. Noises of flesh being rent and bones being snapped filled the stillness between us, and fighting to suppress my rising gorge I walked a little further down the passageway, leaning still on the spear. I was still trembling a bit from my earlier ordeal in small aftershocks that would grip me from time to time. Now that the adrenalin had faded, I felt nothing short of terrible. I set the spear up against the wall and rolled up my sleeves to examine my arms; where the alien had clawed me were large, stinging scrapes, and some of them were still trickling blood. The gauze I'd had wrapped around my earlier burn had been shredded and had fallen away, leaving that wound open to the air.

I sighed and began digging through my pockets, looking for what was left of the gauze. I found it and struggled with it for several minutes, and when finally I managed to unravel it I found there was only enough left for one arm. Being as I was right handed, I wrapped that arm and decided to leave the left. Task completed, I glanced back at the predator. He had decapitated one of the corpses and was now methodically cleaving the skull in two, and the sound alone was enough to make me want to heave my guts out. Deciding that if I must vomit it would be best to do it away from the predator, I picked up my spear and meandered further along. Sighing again, I slid into a crouch and leaned heavily against the wall. I wasn't tired anymore—the last attempt on my life had sent my nerves into roiling chaos, and I didn't think I could sleep even if I'd tried. I leaned my head back, placed the spear across my knees, and began to dream of when my life had been much, much simpler.

I'd been recalling that last fateful climb I'd had with my father when I heard the thunder of footsteps, and I raised my head to see the predator approaching. His chittering growl as he stopped before me gave me no indication of what he was about, and when he reached down and removed the spear from my grasp I stared at him in confusion. He turned and walked back to where his trophies lay; I got quickly to my feet and trailed close behind.

"Hey!" I said nervously. That spear had saved my life repeatedly since I'd first acquired it. Was he taking it back? Was he going to leave me here and strike out on his own? Agitated, I asked, "What are you doing?"

No answer came, not that I'd expected one. Having reached the alien corpses, the hunter knelt and picked up his knife from where it lay. The blade was coated in the sickly green blood of the aliens, with a layer of something filmy and thicker over top. I watched with mild disgust as he wiped the blade clean along the stones of the floor and then used it to cut free from where it dangled at his waist the tooth he'd taken from the alien I had killed. Deftly he strung what remained of the tooth's wire through a space at the head of the spear and wound it about the haft several times. He then tied if off in a knot; he was decorating the spear, I realized, with the trophy from a kill—_my_ kill. Setting the weapon down, he looked to me.

"What?" I said after an uncomfortably long moment under his scrutiny; I wished I could see whatever expression he wore beneath that unnerving mask. Rumbling softly, he cut from his waist the finger from the other, younger alien I'd slain. Expecting him to affix it also to the spear, I was taken aback when he dipped the clawed end of the finger in a nearby pool of steaming alien blood. He then rose to his feet and approached me; apprehensive, I backed quickly away.

"What's that for?" I asked tersely, knowing I wouldn't receive an answer and wondering if I could make a run for it … to where, I had no idea, but this scenario really didn't seem like it was going to be all that much fun.

His continual growling didn't really assuage my anxiety and he kept coming. With the wall suddenly at my back I found myself staring up at the acid tipped finger held ominously in his large, clawed hand. Another long, tense moment passed as I tried furiously to comprehend just what he was going to do. Interpreting my obvious unease, he cocked his head to the side and gestured with his free hand to the symbol on his helmet

"Oh," I murmured, relieved. He was going to mark me like he'd marked himself—with the blood of a defeated enemy. The vivid and more gruesome visions of torture I'd been entertaining in my mind faded away; I pushed wayward strands of my hair away from my cheek and nodded up at him.

There was a sudden thunder all around us; the floor I stood on heaved, and knocked off balance I fell to my knees. Swiftly the ground that bore me began to sink down; the hunter reached quickly for me and caught my arm. He'd lifted me almost to his level when the sound I'd come to both loathe and fear tore through the air around us; emerging from a newly created entrance an alien stalked forth. The hunter dropped me abruptly; I fell to the still descending platform I'd recently been standing on and landed hard. Shouting frantically, I stared upwards as the roof slid closed over my head. Before it had melded together completely, however, something came falling through it, and I dodged to the side as the spear landed with a loud clatter at my side.

Silence fell then, thick, heavy, and oppressive; I was alone again, and that was not a good thing. I heard the distant echo of the predator's cannon firing once, just once, and then the silence was complete. Tears pooled in the corner of my eyes and spilled over almost instantly, and I knelt to retrieve the spear. Again, the hunter had gifted me with a method of defense, and though I was once more thoroughly terrified, the fact that he'd done so mollified me a little—obviously he thought I was competent enough to deserve a weapon. I knew why he had let me fall; if he hadn't the alien would have been able to launch an undefended attack upon us both, and one of us most likely would have died. This didn't change the fact, however, that I was on my own again in the bowels of this hell.

"You can do this, Lex," I whispered, wiping angrily at the tears that wet my cheeks. I cast another hopeless glance upwards, praying that the hunter was alive, praying I would find him again, before looking all around me. I was in a small passage, narrow enough that my shoulders rubbed both walls when I stood. I took a deep breath, gripping the spear so tight that my knuckles hurt, before I chose a direction and began to walk.

**xXx**

Quite some time later, as far as I could reckon, the passage widened, becoming a hall of sorts; it was lined with towering statues of both the aliens and the predators. It was brighter here; I didn't know why, but I found this fact to be somewhat heartening. Several steps into the hall, I heard an odd skittering noise. I halted and stared very hard into the shadows all around me; it was not long before my eyes picked out something moving quickly across the darkness of the floor. I stood stock still as I watched it, trying to discern what exactly it was.

And then it was airborne, and I knew.

I couldn't let it near my face; I knew what this spindly legged spider-like creature was, and I knew that if it gained access to my mouth I was nothing more than a dead woman walking. I brought both arms up in front of my face, letting fall the spear, and it hit me much harder than I figured it would. Driven to my knees, I could only let out a hoarse cry before the thing twined its tail appendage around my neck and began to squeeze. I tried pushing it away with my arms which were crossed over my face, but it was incredibly strong. It's small and wiry legs had crept around my wrists and were steadily pulling my arms apart. As it constricted about my windpipe I tried to gasp for breath but could manage only a faint wheeze. Something began to force its way through my entwined fingers, and I went very cold knowing what it was. The more I struggled, the more I needed air, and slowly I toppled over as breath was denied me.

_How incredibly stupid of me_, I thought as my arms began to give way beneath the incredible pressure the creature was exerting, _to have thought I could make it alone ... _Something slimy and wet bumped against my lips, and I tucked my head as far as I could beneath my arm to escape the intrusion that was slowly becoming inevitable. If I could have chosen my death, it would have been anything other than this defilement, this violation.

Spots danced in my vision. My arms collapsed; instantly I felt something probing about my lips, pushing, gaining entry. _Not like this!_ I screamed inwardly, _please not like this!_

My mouth was pried open, and I tried biting down, tried to stop what I knew I couldn't stop—

And suddenly, the weight on my face, on my arms, was gone.

Choking, retching, I struggled to my hands and knees. I heard the unmistakable noise of sharp steel being withdrawn, heard the shriek of a dying alien, and lifted my grateful gaze.

"Oh, _no_." I whispered. Staring imperiously down at me was _not_ the hunter I was familiar with. Swallowing hard, I rocked back on my heels, and then rose very slowly to my feet. I recognized this one's mask—how could I not?—it was savage, feral, and I knew this to be the creature that had slaughtered Max. He was huge, taller even than the other I had traveled with, and his girth was at least three times the size of my own. Skulls and bones decorated his waist as well, and he, like the other, wore various pieces of armor. The alien spiderling lay in bloody halves at his feet, and in one enormous hand he held a massive shuriken like the one I had seen my companion hunter use.

The predator roared then, and it was a powerful enough sound to make me weak in the knees. He bent and picked up the spear; as he examined the tooth hanging from the weapon he made a purring sound that was both deeper and rougher than that of my previous companion. Abruptly he thrust the spear out before me and growled, indicating with one finger the alien tooth. I nodded hastily, backing away. He made a noise that was distinctly rude, shook his fierce head at me, and began to walk away.

"Give that back! I'm coming with you, you hear me?" I cried, running after him. He barked harshly, and spun around with a swiftness that was astounding. One massive hand wrapped itself about my neck and hoisted me effortlessly into the air. Pawing vainly at his grip, I stared into the depthless eyes of his mask and knew that this one cared not if I lived or died … he released me then, and I fell in a gasping, tangled heap to the floor.

The predator was leaving and I watched him go, one hand rubbing my abused throat. I wouldn't go after him, because if I did I knew he'd gut me much as he'd gutted the alien spiderling. And as more tears streamed down my face unheeded, I realized I was already dead either way.

It was just a matter of time.

**xXx**


	6. Six

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_Yeah, yeah, I thought the Predators died way too easy in the movie, and I thought the Celtic Predator (apparently as he's known) was badass and deserved a better death, so I've resurrected him for this fic. I was so not happy when Scar made it all that way and then died, too._

**xXx**

After a while, when all the emotions I had been battling back for so long could no longer be denied, I curled in on myself and wept. To think that I could have gotten on that helicopter the day before and left, that I could have lived the rest of my life in blissful ignorance never knowing what lay beneath the depths of the island ice … instead I was here, lost within the giant depths of a temple built by a sadistic and brutal race of beings who literally lived for the hunt.

And the predators … I'd nicknamed the one I'd traveled with Scar, because of his own mark and the one he had wanted to give me. When in the company of Scar, I had held out hope that I may just make it through this alive, that I may live to see the world beyond these damnable walls again. Foolish hopes, I realized, sobbing into my knees—ridiculous to have even thought I could have made it out of here. Scar was gone, and his companion—I'd dubbed him Celtic for the uniqueness of his mask—obviously did not hold me in the same regard; he'd saved me from the alien spiderling, yes, but he'd taken my only weapon and had threatened me when I'd attempted to follow him. The spear in no way guaranteed my survival, but it had given me a chance. Without it …

Without it, I was just dead meat.

And so I sat, for God knows how long, crying tears of desperate hopelessness and frustration. I was aware I was making an easy target; I no longer cared. What was the point of pretending that I had any chance of surviving this? When finally my head ached and I could shed no more tears, I got wearily and painfully to my feet. The hall around me was dark, eerily silent and thankfully devoid of any more creatures; I contemplated remaining there but realized I couldn't. If there were any hope at all for me, it would be in finding the exit to this hellhole. I began to walk, going the same way as Celtic, hiccoughing softly the way one does after a good, hard cry. I wandered for a long time then, vaguely aware I may be wandering in circles and too numb mentally to really take heed. When the pyramid would reconfigure itself I would stop moving and wait for everything to become stable before continuing on; a humorless smile tilted the corner of my mouth as I realized how very much I was like a rat in the proverbial maze.

I continued thus, until I reached a circular chamber that had no exit save for the one I had come from. I cast a perfunctory glance around, spotting a small opening set halfway up the wall but too small too lead anywhere. I sighed and turned to retrace my steps to some earlier point and continue on from there—

_Agony._

Everything ceased in that one instant, in that one second as I tried to breathe past the sudden, rending torment that assailed me. My knees buckled but I remained upright; stunned, my gaze fell to the jagged, ebony, spear-like appendage that protruded from my right shoulder. Blood—_my_ blood—coated it, and it glistened even in the lack of light. Impaled, pinioned, I fought to turn my head, fought to see what I knew I would see—

-the young alien's head next to my own, breath hot on my face as its jaws spread wide. Held aloft by its tail, all I could do was manage a weak scream; it echoed me with a mockery, a grating screech that reverberated through my ears. It would pierce my brain with its hidden jaws, I thought in icy horror, it would feast on my flesh …

And with a flick of its tail, I was airborne. I hit the wall on my side, and I hit it hard; the several feet I plummeted to the ground winded me. The pain in my shoulder was staggering; on hands and knees I watched, sobbing, as the alien paced the floor in front of me, tail flicking back and forth like a cat playing the game with a mouse.

It took me two tries to get to my feet and I couldn't do it without clutching the wall. Blood trickled in warm rivulets down my arm to drip from my fingers; I could _feel_ it leaving me, could feel my already meager strength ebbing. The alien gave a piercing hiss and lunged at me; I screamed, even though it never came close to connecting.

_Toying with me._

A vivid recollection came to me then of the small hole I'd seen in the wall when first I'd entered; large enough to hold me, I was sure, but too small for the alien …I cast a quick, frantic glance that way, estimating, gauging. It was set at least six feet up, how would I reach it? The alien shrieked and lunged again; I stumbled to the side as it fell back.

_Now._

I ran for the wall and made a desperate leap; the hand of my uninjured arm caught the edge of the opening. I strained with all my might to hoist myself up; my feet scrabbled furiously at the wall. I hooked my elbows over the edge and felt then more pain, different pain in one of my legs.

The alien had me in its grasp, claws sinking in deep to maintain its hold. My screams mingled with its own, and resolutely it pulled me downwards, ever downwards …

_NO!_

I twisted, ignoring the agony in my shoulder, blocking out the torture of claws being ripped free from my shin. I lashed out with my uninjured leg and it connected; the alien staggered back and with a strength borne out of pure fear I pulled myself up and into the opening. Acutely aware that the alien could climb I scuttled backwards, thrashing about so that I could see the entrance, moving on my elbows, pushing with my feet. Too soon I came up against solid wall; a ragged cry of dismay left me. The alien's head appeared in the opening, only three feet away.

I closed my eyes.

The sound of claws gouging into stone made me open them again. In disbelief I watched as the alien struggled—and failed—to fit itself within my haven. Several minutes passed while it attempted again and again to contort its body, to shrink in upon itself to reach me; finally it gave one last, menacing hiss before dropping away from view.

I lay there, crying in eerie silence, listening to the sound of the alien pacing the floor below. Every breath was torture; I could barely feel the fingers of my right hand. I didn't bother looking at my leg where the alien had seized me—I didn't want to know the extent of the damage. My only solace was in the fact that I wouldn't die infected by the aliens, that I wouldn't be their host; I would die here in this small hole, alone, yes, but wholly human. I could no longer hold my head up, and it lolled back to rest against the stone. I clutched at my shoulder with my left hand; blood welled swiftly over my fingers. In the center of me had settled a core of ice and cold tendrils were drifting ever so gently throughout my body, numbing me. I concentrated on the racing of my heart, and as it began to slow I felt drowsy and weak. I didn't fight as my eyelids descended, flickering, nor did I panic as my hearing faded until all I could hear were my own languid thoughts. _This isn't so bad_, I said silently, internally.

The pyramid moved then.

The stone all around me trembled, and for one horrifying moment I thought that my haven would shrink and crush me, grind my body to a pulp. Instead I watched as a slab of stone rose up to block the opening I had come through. Lost in sudden blackness, I breathed hard and fast, for this was an effective tomb. And then the stone at my head began to shift, began to sink; I twisted about, whimpering in pain, to see that I had access to a new chamber. This opening was set only a couple feet from the floor, and the room itself seemed strangely familiar. I didn't dare leave the small shaft until I was entirely certain it was safe, and so for long, minutes I simply lay there listening and staring while blood from my wounds seeped through my clothing to become uncomfortably cool. Finally I crawled forth, and tumbled weakly from the opening to land in a heap on the floor.

I couldn't move for a time; my impact with the ground had jarred every hurting piece of me; I drifted for awhile in a haze of absolute suffering. When I could move without fear of blacking out I came first to my knees and then, shakily, to my feet. One hand fisted over my bleeding shoulder, I took greater notice of my surroundings. This was another hall, decorated again on both sides with towering statues of both the creatures I was currently imprisoned with. Overwhelming familiarity washed over me, for I knew I'd been here before, and a second later I realized this was the room where Max had met his death, the room where we had stumbled upon Celtic and the other, now dead predator. While the shape had changed somewhat, I was positive this was the place.

And if Max's body was still here ….

I began to move, limping awkwardly past the stone figurines and feeling the weight of their granite gazes. Every step hurt, but I bit my lip and continued. Max and Weyland had both been carrying our first aid supplies; I caught sight of a human leg from beyond a massive block of obsidian rock. Almost weeping in relief, I sank down beside the corpse. No longer was Max impaled by Celtic's spear, but the grid-work of blood on his bald head and his terrified, frozen expression were both testaments to what he had endured in his final moments. I steadfastly avoided looking at his face and instead rummaged through all his pockets, all his clothing. The first aid supplies I found in his large vest pocket, and my relief was absolute. I placed them all on the floor before me and picked through them. Two rolls of gauze, a needle and suture for emergency stitching, a bottle of sterilizing fluid, several syringes, three packets of antiseptic pads, a roll of adhesive tape, and a bottle of aspirin ...

_Thank you_, I whispered silently to whatever had granted me this miracle. Struggling painfully with my two shirts, I managed to expose the hole in my shoulder. Doing so, I realized how fortunate I was that the alien that had impaled me had been young—had it been an adult its larger tail would have punctured something important. As far as I could tell, the bones weren't broken, but the muscles … gritting my teeth, I opened the bottle of sterilizing fluid and poured it over the wound. I screamed. I couldn't help it, and I doubled over, panting. I repeated the process three more times before trying with violently trembling hands to reach the back of the wound with the fluid. There was no way I could get it all, but finally the bottle was empty, and I let it fall.

It took me long moments to recover enough from the agony of my cleansing to be able to grasp the gauze firmly and not drop it. I ripped it off in swaths and placed them one by one over the injury before securing it in place with an excess of tape. The backside of the wound was much harder to bind, and by the time I was finished tears of both frustration and pain stained my cheeks. It wasn't a decent job, but it would do. It would have to.

Shoulder dealt with, I turned my attention to my leg; as I rolled up the leg of my pants dried blood was pulled sharply away, and I hissed. Upon further inspection I realized the claw gashes weren't as bad as I had feared; they were just very deep scrapes. One of them still bled, and I realized I would have to stitch it. I was no stranger to the procedure; in my many forays over hostile ice I had had to do it before on injured companions, but it was much more unpleasant when performing it upon myself. When the wound was closed by my haphazard needle and wire, I poured what little was left of the sterilizing fluid over it and gasped at the burning sensation. That done, I pulled the leg of my pants back down and looked to the syringes.

Weyland had explained them to us before we had departed; they were a cocktail of painkillers and antibiotics, to be used only in case of emergency. I'd also used these before when on the ice with an injured person; they often meant the difference between survival and death. I removed the cap from one of them and prepped it; I had no trouble finding a vein in my arm, because they were standing out vividly against my flesh. The pinprick of the needle in my flesh seemed like nothing in relation to everything else I had done, and when the syringe was empty I let it fall and batted at the small blood drop left over with another piece of gauze.

I gathered what was left over of the supplies and shoved them in any pocket they would fit in. The next order of business was to secure weapons from Max's body, and so I began to look. The assault rifle he held had been damaged severely by Celtic's mesh net, and besides I had no idea how to use it. I found in a hidden hip holster a grey automatic pistol; sliding the magazine out I saw it had full rounds. I felt along the edge of his thigh, having seen a protrusion and found that beneath his clothing he had a sophisticated pump action shotgun that rode in a thigh holster. Removing it was an ordeal, as the fabric of his pants didn't want to rip. Finally I located a military issue knife sheathed in his boot which I used to slice open the cloth in order to secure the shotgun.

I had only a vague inkling how to use it; it wasn't as heavy as I was expecting, and after switching off the safety I checked to see if there were any rounds in the chamber. There weren't, so I shucked one into place and felt immediately much safer. I had no idea whether either the pistol or the shotgun would do me any good against the aliens, but at least I could find out … I stood, testing my injured leg and finding it well enough to support weight. I shoved the pistol in the waistband of my pants and decided to carry the shotgun out in the open. The knife I opted to leave behind. My body still hurt, God did it hurt, but I had a sense of renewed determination now, for I had made it through situations I was almost positive most would have died in, and I had survived. Yes, most of it was dumb luck, but I was alive, and I dearly wanted to stay that way.

And so, injuries patched and newly armed, I began my trek again.

**xXx**

The painkillers acted fast; soon I was walking with only a hint of a limp. Driven by new determination I made my way, once again, through the labyrinthine twists and turns. When my ears suddenly detected the sound of battle and the distinctive noise of Scar's cannon firing, I altered my course and made the best bee-line I could towards them.

And against all odds, I found the battle.

Rounding a corner I stood just beyond a cavernous room, with a ceiling that soared high enough to be hidden in darkness. Scar was there, yes, but so was Celtic, and the two were fighting back to back against three adult aliens. Scar's cannon was no longer firing, but I could see the smoking corpse of another alien not far away; he was wielding now his spear, the spear decorated with the trophy of my kill … I watched mutely as he drove it through one of the aliens with enough force to pin it securely to the wall. More frenzied movement drew my eyes; Celtic went down swiftly beneath the weight of an alien and came up just as fast, throwing it from him while at the same time slicing its underside open with a fierce swipe of his wrist blades. Acid blood spewed everywhere, but the huge predator whirled aside …

And thus came face to face with me.

For only a moment we regarded each other; Scar was locked in a struggle with the last alien. And when Celtic brought his shuriken up to bear, blades extended, I reacted the way I had to. I raised the shotgun, and stared at him, terrified, over the barrel. As he brought his arm up in an arc in preparation to throw I pulled the trigger; the kick-back sent me stumbling into the wall behind me. The green luminance of the hunter's blood spread swiftly from the hole I'd made in his upper torso, and he took two steps to the side before throwing his head back and letting loose a savage scream. From where he stood, removing his spear from the last alien corpse, Scar swiveled around; seeing me, seeing Celtic, he dropped the spear and began to approach very quickly.

Celtic hurled the shuriken. I dove back behind the wall, cringing as the weapon embedded itself deep into the wall where I had just been standing. I hear another roar of rage, and did the only thing I could think of doing that didn't wind up with me dead.

I scrambled to my feet and bolted back the way I'd come.

**xXx**


	7. Seven

**xXx**

Fleeing again. God, I was tired of running. I pelted through a twisting, winding path, and as I ran I pumped another shell into the chamber of the shotgun. I was astounded that I'd even been able to wound Celtic; my aim was terrible and by some stroke of luck—or misfortune, I wasn't sure which—I'd managed to hit him in an unarmored area.

And now he was very, very angry. I didn't know whether he was in pursuit, though I felt it safest to assume he was. I had hoped—I had prayed—that once I found Scar again I could resume traveling with him until we found the way out of this place, but quite obviously I wasn't considered welcome company by his fellow predator. So now not only did I have to concern myself with the distinctly unfriendly aliens, but also with a particularly ferocious and hostile predator that clearly thought I was better off dead.

_When and if I get out of here_, I silently promised myself, _the first thing I am going to do is get dead drunk. _

A sharp, stabbing ache began in the leg that had stitches, and it wasn't long before I was forced to slow my wild pace and hobble to a halt. I turned and stared for minutes down the path I had taken, but nothing appeared, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I let the shotgun rest against my shoulder as I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes and breathing deep. As the pyramid reconfigured itself I merely opened my eyes to see what would change in the area around me. Two massive slabs of granite came together in front of the corridor I had just left, and opposite them two others slid open.

And standing on the other side of them was Scar.

Caution pushed me away from the wall, bringing the shotgun up to bear as I did so. I tried to peer past the hunter's large bulk to see if Celtic was somewhere behind him, but as he took the few steps he needed to enter the chamber I saw he was in fact alone. He'd begun his throaty chitter as soon as we'd seen each other and hadn't stopped. I didn't lower the shotgun. Celtic had tried to kill me, and how was I to know that Scar wasn't here to finish the job?

Neither of us moved for a time. I found that I felt far more confident regarding him over the double barrels of my weapon now that I knew I could harm his kind. When he abruptly became silent and took a step towards me I reacted by moving back; my finger tightened imperceptibly on the trigger.

"Don't," I said softly, pleadingly. I really, really did not want to shoot him—not because I was afraid of hurting him, but because I was afraid of what he'd do to me if I did. He paused only a moment before taking another step.

I swallowed hard; the shotgun trembled in my grasp. I was beginning to doubt that I could shoot him—he had, after all, aided me in multiple ways since we'd crossed paths. As the thought flashed through my mind, another, more insidious voice rose up in answer.

_Look what you did to Sebastian_, it said.

"Don't—" My voice faltered, and I had to clear my throat before continuing, "Don't come any closer. Please."

Whether he understood me or not, I didn't know, but he came no further. Instead he said, in a man's voice that I recognized an instant later as Sebastian's, "Lex."

He held out both hands then, palms up, and simply stood there. It was a gesture of pacification, meant to placate me, meant to show he wished me no harm. My relief then was so strong that my legs almost gave way beneath it. Instead I lowered the shotgun until the end of the barrels rested against the ground. In turn, Scar let his arms fall to his sides. I fell limply back against the wall again, wiping at the nervous sweat that had beaded on my face. We'd ascertained the fact that we were still "friends", but now what?

I watched as Scar jerked something free from his waist; it an alien finger, the same, I realized after seeing the dark green blood on the tip of the claw, as he had held before. We were starting where we'd left off, I understood, and as he neared me I tucked the wayward mass of my hair behind my ear and turned my face to the side. As he touched the tip of the claw to my cheek I sucked in a sharp breath at the pain and then bit my lip. I'd suffered worse in the hours past, to be certain. When he lifted his hand away, he gave a rolling growl that I could only interpret as approval. I raised my own finger to touch lightly my new mark; it tingled with needle-like intensity.

"Alright, then," I said, and was happy to find my voice was even. "What do we do now?"

Scar hadn't moved, except to reattach the finger to his belt. I edged around him, assuming we'd be heading back the way he'd come. His sudden snarl, however, twisted me around to face him again. He reached for me before I could react, and he caught my left arm with his hand and pulled me closer. I opened my mouth to protest, to curse, when he abruptly placed two fingers on the wound in my shoulder. I made a muted sound of agony, for his touch hadn't been gentle, and would have wrenched away had I been able to.

"What … the _hell_ was that for?" I snapped angrily when I could breathe again.

A deep grunt was my answer as again he probed my injury, albeit with a gentler touch. It still hurt, but I realized he hadn't meant to cause me pain originally, so I stood my ground and mutely endured his curious examination. He circled around me, hand still wrapped securely around my upper arm, to see the puncture on my back. Again he prodded it delicately, but it was tenderer there, and my breath left me in a slow hiss.

After a moment he turned me to face him, and indicated with a toss of his head the passage he had come from; he led the way, and cradling my shotgun in both arms, I followed willingly after him.

**xXx**

I had known, in the furthermost reaches of my mind, where Scar would be taking me. And so when we came shortly to an intersection between four corridors and I saw Celtic there, I wasn't really surprised. But I was scared.

It seemed my arrival had been anticipated; Celtic, crouched over what seemed to be some sort of medical kit, did nothing but glance up as I came to a standstill and snarl at me. And while this wasn't the warmest of greetings, it was enough that I felt a slight bit better. Scar grumbled something; Celtic growled back, and my savior companion then flipped open the computer like device that adorned his forearm and began to press buttons. My attention was drawn to Celtic, who had taken from a small, heated metal bowl a blue gel-like substance; he smeared it on the bullet hole I'd made in his upper torso. Almost immediately he let loose a howl that shook the walls around us, and I jumped several steps back in alarm. Eyes wide, I watched as he repeated the process until every trace of his neon blood had vanished and my ears rang from his roars of pain.

Against my will, I felt slightly guilty.

This faded, however, as Celtic rose very slowly to his feet and circled around the medical kit, heading directly for me. I cast an anxious glance at Scar, who stood nearby and was now silently observing; I got the distinct impression that I was about to be tested. Though incredibly tempted, I resisted the urge to raise the shotgun. When only a couple of inches separated Celtic and I he stopped moving and I craned my neck to meet those expressionless eyes set within his eerie mask. This close, I was acutely aware of the fact that I was incredibly out-powered, and it was not a good feeling.

One massive, reptilian finger rose to touch my newly received warrior's mark on my cheek, and it wasn't a gentle touch. It was rough and meant to inflict pain, and though my eyes watered I didn't flinch. I kept staring up at him. And when his hand descended on my injured shoulder and squeezed so hard my vision went red, I didn't cry out. I bit down—_hard—_on my lip and concentrated on keeping my breathing even. I was wondering what would happen if I fainted when abruptly he released me, gave a guttural growl, and touched the wound I had given him. I was confused, until he did what Scar had done once before—he thumped himself on the chest, grabbed my shoulder, and touched his injury again.

I had the vague impression he was telling me _"nice shot"._

He then bowed his head only slightly; awed, I watched as he moved away from me to stand before Scar. They conversed a moment in their animalistic language before Celtic gestured to me, made a noise that could only be interpreted as derisive, and began to leave, walking down the passage to the left and disappearing from sight. Expecting we would follow, I was surprised when Scar crouched down before the still open medical kit and scooped up some of the blue gel on the spoon like utensil. When he stood and walked towards me, however, I hastily back-pedaled. If it had hurt enough to rouse Celtic to that much noise, I really had no desire to discover just what it would do to me.

"I'm okay, really," I blathered, holding out one hand in an effort to impede his progress. "I took care of it myself … back there …"

He growled; obviously this wasn't open to debate. With a sigh I stopped moving, and instead slipped my arm out of my two remaining shirts. He waited patiently as I ripped the gauze off, wincing the entire time. It was more difficult to remove it from my back, but I managed, and when I was done I stared at the ominous blue mixture he held and nodded.

He went about it as carefully as he could, I'll give him that much, but the moment that substance touched my wound I was in complete and utter agony. I screamed and must have fallen, because when I suddenly became aware of anything other than the pain I was on my knees with Scar crouched before me. It was a struggle for me to catch my breath, but when I did I nodded at him once more, and the torture began anew. His free hand on my other shoulder was all that kept me upright; I swayed unsteadily as he stood, returned to the medical kit, and returned a minute later with more of the blue stuff.

He applied it to my back this time, and when he was done I was sprawled face first on the cold, hard ground. The treatment hurt almost more than the initial injury, I thought dazedly as I got first to my hands and knees, and then to my feet. The gel causing a burning numbness to spread through the injury, and while it was unpleasant it wasn't unbearable. Gingerly sliding my arm back into my sleeves, I wondered if I should expose my leg wound to the same medicine.

Scar was beginning to pack up the medical kit; I knelt beside him and shook my head, taking the spoon of blue goop from his hand. He watched, head cocked to the side, as I awkwardly tugged up my pant leg to expose my stitches. The gel didn't hurt as much on my scrapes as it did on my puncture wound, but it was still enough that tears slipped from my eyes; I averted my head so they couldn't be seen. When the blue substance was all gone, Scar took the utensil from my hand and finished closing the medical kit up. I rolled the leg of my pants back down, picked up my shotgun, and stood.

Most of my body was now numb; I felt better than I had in hours. Kind of like when you drink enough alcohol that you're in a pleasant state of oblivious bliss to the world around you … which reminded me of my earlier promise to myself. Scar had reattached the medical kit to where he carried it on his back; I wondered idly if his species had something akin to alcohol, and if they ever got drunk to the point of oblivion after finding themselves fighting for their lives over and over and over again.

"Lex."

God, it was disconcerting to hear the predator say my name with someone else's voice. I shook my head out of my slightly hysterical reverie and my affirmation that yes, I was ready to go and face the horrible, monstrous things that wanted to kill me. I giggled at that before clamping one hand firmly over my mouth, appalled. What the hell was wrong with me?

Scar was watching me with his curious head tilt, my mouth twitched with urge not to laugh. Before he turned to lead the way down the path Celtic had gone, he reached out and brushed the mark he had given me lightly with the back of his knuckles, rumbling. I shouldered my shotgun and began to walk after him; I stumbled the first few steps, feeling unaccountably dizzy.

Realization made me halt for a moment. Whatever healing that gel stuff was doing, it also had a mild intoxicative effect on me. Had Scar known? I doubted he'd ever used it on a human before. And while staggering around down here slightly inebriated wasn't preferred, at least I was alive.

Scar, several feet ahead, had spun back around to determine why I was lingering. He barked a reprimand, and as he began to move again I suppressed the desire to salute him.

Yes, at least I was alive. Life was good.

**xXx**


	8. Eight

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**__I have a tendency of forgetting to clarify things when I post chapters, so I'll do so now. Here are the answers to some of your questions:_

_**Why didn't Celtic just let the facehugger impregnate Lex? **__My explanation is that he noticed the spear she was carrying, and also noticed that it had been decorated with a trophy. Obviously Lex couldn't have overpowered Scar, so Celtic put two and two together and figured out that Scar had given it to her because he thought of her as a warrior. Celtic, however, had a very different opinion, which is why he took the spear and left her to die. _

_**What did Celtic do with Lex's spear? **__In the chapter where Lex finds Celtic and Scar again, I mentioned that Scar was fighting with the spear decorated with the tooth of Lex's kill … I should have been more descriptive. Basically, Celtic returned the spear to Scar upon their reunion, as he didn't think it was appropriate for a mere human to be carrying around such a weapon._

_**Why did Celtic have a sudden change of heart? **__See … I never meant to portray him as suddenly friendly … I wanted only to convey the fact that he grudgingly accepted that she was a worthy warrior, but didn't like it. I may have to rewrite that part; in the next chapters I hopefully get the point across._

_**Why didn't the shotgun wound kill Celtic? **__In Predator 2, the main Predator survived something like 6 shotgun blasts to the chest._

_**What's the blue gel stuff/medical kit the Predators used? **__I also took that from Predator 2 … after being shot many times, the Predator used his medical kit and applied blue gel to his wounds … and screamed a lot while doing it._

_**What are you going to do about the alien in Scar's chest? **__Really good question, as I've been mulling this over ever since I started this fic. All I can tell you at this point is to keep in mind that this is fanfiction, and therefore I have the ability to apply artistic license wherever I see fit …_

_Hope you enjoy this chapter!_

**xXx**

Our traveling pace this time was almost leisurely compared to our earlier sojourn. Scar's strides were slow enough that I could keep up by walking briskly, which I was grateful for because my head was spinning slightly and my balance was slightly off. I wondered if the blue healing gel affected the predators the same way it did me. My question was answered when I stumbled noisily into the wall; Scar pivoted and made a very nasty noise before stalking back to where I stood. Cringing slightly before his obvious ire, I managed to stand my ground as he towered over me; he lifted one fist, and rapped me hard on the top of my head. I blinked, and with a threatening growl he turned and began again to walk.

Scar apparently wasn't inebriated.

I made a concentrated effort after that to move with some semblance of stealth, and found that if I stared at my feet I could manage alright. The buzz from the strange medicine wore off after a while, leaving my shoulder and leg numb, and the rest of me aching horribly. When Scar came to a stop in yet another small, circular chamber, I was glad. With his back to me he worked for several minutes with the small computer device attached to his forearm; making a satisfied grumble, he turned to me and pointed at the floor.

My gaze bemusedly followed his finger to the corner he was indicating, and then traveled back to him. Unconcerned with whether I understood him or not, he dropped into a crouch and began to remove, one by one, his motley assortment of gruesome trophies from where they hung at his belt. I crossed over to the point he'd indicated and sank down to sit cross-legged, back to the wall, with the shotgun laid across my knees. Taking a small sip from my canteen, I watched as my companion laid his prizes out in front of him, grumbling quietly to himself. There were several fingers, some long, unidentifiable bones that seemed to have been only recently divested of the skin that had covered them, many teeth tied together in a bunch, and what appeared to be the tail end of one of the alien spiderlings.

Still observing Scar, I drew out a nutrition bar, unwrapped it, and took a bite. The predator was now picking up each individual trophy, turning it this way and that, examining it closely. I paused in the midst of my chewing, suddenly realizing that his behavior reminded me of that of a teenage boy with his first car. He was taking pride in his acquisitions, admiring them for what they stood for. Several things came together in my mind as I swallowed dryly. These hunters, these predators, had come here as a rite of passage, and by killing one of the aliens and marking themselves appropriately, Sebastian had assumed, they'd attained a higher status. It was just like some of the rituals honored by ancient Native American tribes … a trial which would be the transition from child to man.

Were these predators, I wondered a little incredulously, the equivalent age of a sixteen year old human teenager?

I watched as the object of my ponderings ran a finger almost lovingly down the length of a thin bone that still had strands of gore attached to it; abruptly I wasn't hungry anymore, and so I looked wistfully at the remainder of my protein bar. If this was what the adolescents of the predator race were like, I sure as hell didn't want to encounter the older members. I folded the protein bar back up in its wrappings before returning it to my pocket and taking out instead one of the syringes I had left. My body, aside from my numbed injuries, was still hurting like hell, and if I could dull the pain then I would decrease the probability of me falling behind. I didn't use it immediately, though, being somewhat concerned whether or not it would react with the gel on my wounds, so I set it on the floor beside me. My gaze moved back to my companion; Scar was still fondling his grisly possessions, and I decided to take a certain risk; I leaned my head back, and closed my eyes.

I opened them again the moment Scar's rumbling stopped; he had re-affixed all his trophies to his belt and was looking in my direction. I held up both hands hastily to show I was awake in order to avoid having something thrown at my head, but he simply withdrew from where it rode at his back his spear. It was in its compact form, but I could see that the tooth still dangled from the head. Celtic must have returned it upon their reunion … apparently he didn't feel I was worthy of such a weapon. Scar padded heavily over to where I sat and crouched before me, holding out the spear. I only debated for a minute before shaking my head; he tilted his head and rumbled inquisitively.

"I have this," I said, patting the shotgun. His rumble turned into a noise I could only describe as skeptical. He withdrew the spear after a moment, and set about untwining the length of wire with the tooth attached from around the haft. When it was free he tied the two ends together and dangled it in front of me. I took it and slipped it around my neck; the tooth fell to lie just below my collarbone. "Thanks," I said, fingering it. Scar's attention had fallen upon the syringe lying beside me, and he picked it up carefully between his fingers before bringing it to eye level to examine. He chittered curiously, turning it over and tilting it so the amber fluid ran back and forth.

"I need that," I said, reaching up and plucking it from his grasp. I was still hesitant about using it, but the pain would only get worse, and when it did I feared I would be effectively crippled. Under his scrutiny I removed the cap and prepped the needle before rolling up my sleeve to expose a vein. My arm was a mass of angry welts, both from alien acidic blood and claws. I clenched my jaw together very hard so that I wouldn't make a sound when the needle broke my skin; why is it that needles always hurt more when you have an audience? When the last of the liquid was gone, I capped the needle again and shoved it back in my pocket. Scar gripped my wrist and raised my arm, probing with his free fingers at the small bead of blood the needle had left behind. It hurt and I snatched my arm back, saying peevishly, "Bugger off."

His laughter reverberated all around as he stood and attached the spear to his back in one fluid motion. The pyramid shifted itself then, and as a new entrance was opened he beckoned for me to follow him. Apparently, this was what we'd been waiting for.

And thus our trek began again. Our pace was the same as it had been before our brief pause in the small chamber, slower even, for I was able to walk abreast with Scar. The shotgun was again riding against my uninjured shoulder; I'd switched the safety on earlier so I didn't by accident shoot myself—or Scar—inadvertently. Occasionally, with a hand on my arm, Scar would pull me to a halt and do something on his computer device before beginning to walk again. So uneventful was our sojourn that when we entered a large hall only to find Celtic face to face with a large alien, I was jerked unpleasantly into the reality of my situation.

The two combatants weren't moving; the alien's head looked strange to me, and upon further inspection I realized the odd grid-like pattern that encompassed it was in actuality the injury made by a net like the one Celtic had used on Max. The alien screeched, tail whipping from side to side; Celtic roared, wrist blades extending, and I raised my shotgun—

Only to have Scar push it back down. He cast me a quick glance, shaking his head, and pulled me with him to stand back, outside the chamber but near enough to see inside. It was then I understood—this battle belonged to Celtic, and Celtic alone. So I watched with the utmost trepidation as the two titans hurtled towards each other.

And then the deadly dance began.

**xXx**

**A/N: **_This is winding down … only a few chapters left. I wanted to thank—again—those of you who have stuck with me through every chapter. Without your support, I wouldn't have continued, so you all get hugs of great magnitude. _

_And thanks to __**Zodiac**__, for giving me my first ever review in the form of a haiku. _


	9. Nine

**xXx**

Controlled violence in motion—that's the only way I could describe the battle as I watched it. As they collided all I could see was a tangled mass of limbs and weapons; Celtic tore free and lifted the squirming alien, one handed, until it was no longer touching the ground. The alien lashed out with both its mouths, prompting Celtic in turn to pivot about and hurl the creature with a ferocious cry. It soared several feet, striking the pillars behind it with such force that they crumbled into pieces. It was on its feet instantly, shrieking, and Celtic moved determinedly forth to meet it. The alien met him halfway; airborne, it struck the predator and drove him down, down, its claws rending his arms. Horrified, I watched as Celtic kept the alien's mouth away from his head with one powerful hand about the neck; he moved then with the speed of a striking snake and drove his wrist blades firmly into the alien's flank. He avoided the spray of caustic blood by casting the alien from him and rolling swiftly to the side. Coming into a crouch, he screamed, a primal, challenging sound.

The alien was tottering on its feet, its agonized shrieks a distant cousin to Celtic's brazen call. For a moment I thought it was over; for a moment I thought the alien would fall. But it gathered itself and leapt, and again they fell to the floor, rolling almost beyond my line of vision. Unconsciously I crept forward, only to have Scar haul me roughly back with a warning snarl. I paid him no heed; my attention was solely on the struggle in front of me.

Celtic had the alien pinned; I saw suddenly that his wrist blades had been almost completely destroyed by the alien's blood. He had another blade in hand, a large one, but as he brought his arm down in the killing arc the alien's tail erupted through his shoulder with a shower of radiant green. The predator was thrown backwards with a flick of the alien's tail, and skidded across the stones to strike the wall. He'd maintained his grip on the knife, and coming to his feet with a quickness that belied his large frame launched himself at his enemy that had only just regained its feet.

Time slowed as Celtic twisted mid air to avoid the alien's furious rush; I watched in awe as he drove the length of his blade through the long, black skull. He landed hard, rolling to a stop with a growl of obvious pain.

The alien took one shuddering step, and then another, before crumpling to the ground. There was a silence for several tense moments, and then Celtic bellowed his triumph, and it was loud enough to make my ears ring. He rose to his feet slowly; blood trailed in neon rivulets down the length of his body. I glanced at Scar, who still held me by the arm, but his attention was focused solely on his companion.

Celtic crouched down and wrenched his blade free of the corpse. The weapon was still intact—obviously it had some sort of resilience to the acid-like alien blood. He laid it down before reaching up and disconnecting from the side of his helmet two small hoses that were attached to something he wore on his back. Air hissed from the hoses as he let them fall, and as he slowly lifted his mask away from his face I held my breath in fascination.

Funny, how masks can give the impression of humanity. Celtic's visage, uncovered, was anything but that. His skin was mottled greenish-yellow, reptilian like, and his eyes, close set and beneath a large, prominent brow, where a dark crimson in color. Framing his toothy mouth were four mandibles that moved as though they had a life of their own, and each was tipped with a small tusk. From the back of his head fell the long, thick tube like strands that were, I realized, his hair. He was ugly, yes, but there was something feral, something undeniably haughty in his features that gave him an undeniable presence. At my side, Scar rumbled quietly; I turned to see him regarding me—judging my reaction to his comrade's appearance? Beneath that impassive mask that watched me now lurked something similar, but the knowledge didn't terrify me. I nodded once at Scar before turning back to observe Celtic.

Laying his mask on the ground beside him, he tore off a finger from the grid-scarred alien and brought it to his forehead, just as Sebastian and I had seen Scar do earlier. He made no sound as he etched with the acid blood a mark into his skin—the same mark, I noticed, that both Scar and I had. When he was done he let fall the finger, rose slowly and with obvious pain to his feet, and approached us both.

Face to face with Scar, he clasped him firmly on the shoulder, and Scar returned the gesture—they were acknowledging each other's triumphs. Releasing Scar, Celtic turned to me. I stared into that fierce countenance and tried not to flinch as he bent down and roared directly in my face, mandibles flaring wide. When I didn't move, he wrapped his long fingers around my neck and hoisted me effortlessly into the air. I choked and clawed at his grip with one hand, because there was no way I was dropping my shotgun; from the corner of my eye I saw Scar step forward with an angry noise. Celtic thundered at me again, bringing me to eye level, and I saw clearly in his vivid gaze his contempt for me.

Gasping furiously for air, I decided I'd had enough of this pissing contest. I kicked out as hard as I could with my legs and landed a blow very close to where the alien had impaled him. With another deafening roar he cast me from him; I stumbled into the chamber and very nearly landed in the ever widening pool of alien blood. Trying to get my bearings, rubbing my throat, my eyes widened as Celtic strode swiftly towards me.

"Don't!" I shouted, lifting the shotgun while flicking the safety off. This gave him momentary pause; I could see him recalling what I'd done with this weapon last time. Finally he shook his head, hair flying, and flared his mandibles at me once more.

Scar was suddenly there, interjecting himself between us both. For a moment the two hunters simply stood, matching glare for glare. Celtic had acknowledged me earlier as a warrior, I understood then, but he didn't regard me as an equal. Abruptly Celtic whirled with a growl, knelt down beside his kill, and with his knife began to dismember it. Shakily I released the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and moved to the far corner of the room, wanting to get as much distance as I could between myself and the unfriendly hunter. Scar remained where he was, glancing between the two of us before he too shook his head and made a sound of disgust; he stalked off to his own corner before beginning to play with his arm computer.

I sighed, still massaging my abused throat. One grown human with two teenaged predators. What fun.

**xXx**


	10. Ten

**xXx**

We remained where we were for quite some time, as the predators seemed in no particular hurry to resume traveling. Celtic stripped the grid alien's carcass of numerous bones and teeth and adorned himself with them much like Scar had done. After marking his mask with another acid tipped finger, he donned it again, shielding his face. I had made a pointed effort not to stare at his features, though I was sorely tempted. That must be a shortcoming of humanity, to be so blatantly fascinated by something that should be repulsive … but I didn't see it as such. Strange, yes, but true—who was to say what the hunters thought when they looked upon a human face?

Finished with his trophy collecting, Celtic growled something to Scar, who had taken to studying—again—his own prizes. Scar removed the medical kit from his back and tossed it to his companion, who set about creating more of the blue gel using a small metal bowl, flame and another ingredient I couldn't see. Knowing that this medical procedure was going to be as unpleasant as his last, I got quietly to my feet and skirted around him as to not draw attention to myself. I moved into the corridor Scar and I had entered from and sat down against the wall, not wanting to be anywhere near Celtic as he underwent the healing torture once again. As I'd expected, the moment the blue gel touched his flesh he let out a thundering bellow that shook the very stone I sat on. I had a small amount of sympathy, recalling the way I'd felt when Scar had given me the same treatment, but with said sympathy also came a rush of vindictive satisfaction.

He had tried to strangle me, after all.

Once Celtic had finished treating his own wounds and had returned the medical kit to Scar, he stood and took from where it was slung across his back his own spear. I wondered why he hadn't used it in the battle with the alien; as he caused it to extend abruptly with a flick of his clawed thumb, I realized that it was different in appearance to Scar's. Scar had reattached his prizes to his belt, and as the two predators spoke to each other I rose to my feet but remained discreetly out of their way. As Celtic turned without sparing me a glance to leave through a passage opposite the one I stood in, Scar beckoned me to follow along, and so I did. I was following several paces behind him when he turned suddenly, and gesture with one finger upwards, trilling lowly.

I didn't comprehend at first, until he gesture to me, then himself, and pointed up again. I nodded my hesitant understanding then, feeling trepidation and nervous hope bubbling up within me. He was telling me that we were headed for the exit, for the way out of this hell. I had a funny feeling that the predators had known all along where to find the exit, but hadn't wanted to leave until they'd made their kills. Of course, this was pure speculation on my behalf. Either way, I was eager to take my leave, and so when Scar began to run to catch up with Celtic, I followed quickly after him.

**xXx**

We moved fast from that point onwards; Celtic in the lead, Scar and I running after him. My earlier suspicions proved to be correct, for as we navigated through the temple's inner maze we would halt from time to time, and one of the hunters would examine something on their arm computers before heading off again. Even when the temple shifted around us, we were able to find a new room, corridor or doorway with uncanny ease. I tried as best I could to keep pace with the two predators, but it was difficult, especially when one of their strides was equal to two of my own. As I fell farther and farther behind them both I contemplated calling out, asking for a cease to our march, but I clenched my teeth and pushed myself on. Weakness was something I couldn't afford to show.

I'd just rounded a corner and would have run directly into Scar had he not caught me by the arm to swing me to a stumbling halt. Celtic was several feet ahead, crouched over something on the ground, and as I hunched over in an attempt to catch my breath Scar went to join him. They conversed with each other in their growling tongue before Celtic stood with something in his hand and brought it closer to his face to examine. I squinted in the dim light, trying to see what it was.

It was a length of heavy, barbed chain.

It made no sense to me whatsoever, but it seemed as though it was of the utmost importance, because the two hunters began to behave in an oddly tense manner. Scar's cannon, lying inactive against his back, suddenly moved over his shoulder into a firing position and he withdrew his spear as well. Celtic, already carrying his own polearm, withdrew from his side his shuriken and extended the blades. Growing increasingly edgy as I watched them, I removed the safety on the shotgun and lifted it to my shoulder. Scar, moving to the front of our little group, signaled to Celtic silently with one fist; Celtic let fall the chain, and together they began to move down the hall again. They weren't running this time—they were moving with a stealthy purpose, stalking, and as I trailed after them I did my best to maintain the silence.

We left the corridor then, cautiously entering a huge, open roofed area. Directly opposite the entrance we'd come from rose a massive staircase, adorned on either side by massive statues of both predators and their prey. I couldn't keep the smile from my face, nor could I repress the sudden overwhelming feeling of joy, for I knew where we were now. We were standing in the entrance hall of the temple, and once we climbed those stairs, once we were through the passage beyond, we would be free finally of this hell. Scar and Celtic were still behaving as though they expected an attack any minute, and though I was exuberant I thought it wise to take heed of their wariness. With agonizing slowness we crept to the stairs, and then up them. The hunters could clear three steps at a time with their strides, and I was forced to quickly climb in order to keep up. All the while there was an air of nervous expectancy hovering around us, for we were all of us waiting, waiting, for something to appear.

We made it to the entrance of the temple, and nothing did.

By the time we'd reached the bottom of the massive staircase that led into the temple, I was near weeping with tears of relief. I could see from where I stood the enormous shaft that had been cored through the ice to lead here. So close, so close to release, to freedom—

An abrupt beeping noise tore me out of my hopeful reverie. We stood at the base of the temple; I had taken steps towards the ice tunnel unconsciously, wanting dearly to leave. I turned to see Scar inputting a code into his arm computer; he looked to me then, gestured to the computer with a fist, and then slowly spread his fingers open. I nodded—it was a bomb, and he was going to use it to seal this place shut forever. I wasn't about to protest, although I was rather concerned how we were going to make it out of here before the detonation. My concerns were answered when Scar wrenched the now wildly blinking bomb from his arm, turned, and hurled it to land quite a distance up the stairs; he spun about, gave a distinctly urgent roar, and began to run. As I whirled to follow suit Celtic, snarling, brushed roughly past me, knocking me to my knees, and I had to climb quickly to my feet to pelt after them both.

Reaching the ice shaft, I saw that my hopes hadn't all been in vain, for the sled that had been used to transport our equipment down here was still intact. As I slowed to a halt Scar gestured to it, and I nodded and kneeled to look at the control panel on the side of the sled. Weyland had ensured that each and every member of our party knew the code for the emergency release, and so I reached out to punch it in—

There was something clear, thick, and sticky coating the panel. My eyes were drawn up the length of the tunnel, where I could make out a distinctive scoring carved deep into the ice that looked for all the world like claw marks.

In the split second it took me to put two and two together, all hell broke loose.

The sound of Scar's cannon firing jerked me up and around, shotgun coming almost instinctively to my shoulder. An alien to the left of me exploded in so much gore from the shot, but it wasn't our problem anymore. Celtic was locked in ferocious grapple with another alien; its spindly limbs had wrapped themselves about his own and it had become a test of brute strength. Scar had been taken unawares by another; it clung to his back, and I saw traces of his neon blood under the armor that covered his shoulder. Had it impaled him?

I didn't know, but I had to do something. He'd dropped his spear in an attempt to wrench the alien off of him, and his cannon couldn't fire at that close of range. I had no idea if my shotgun would do any damage, but I couldn't stand there and do nothing. I aimed and fired all in one breath; caustic blood erupted from the alien's forefront limb and it reared back. Scar took the opportunity to stand and hurl the alien from him, and as it hit the ground some several feet away his laser sights centered in on it, and a second later its head was blown to pieces by the cannon.

Celtic had overcome his alien, having managed to shove the blades of his shuriken deep into the its skull. He was disentangling himself from the corpse as I rushed to the sled, placing my shotgun on it and trying with shaking hands to input the codes. I wondered absently how the hell we were all going to fit on the skid, and when the control panel beeped its acceptance at me and the whole thing began to move, I got my answer. Scar leapt aboard, and with one arm around my waist hauled me bodily with him. Celtic hit it full length a moment later; as we steadily began to pick up speed I twisted around so that I could grip the iron bar at the top for security instead of clutching Scar's thick arm. I could only reach with one arm, however, as my other was trapped beneath his solid bulk. He had a one handed grasp as well; his other arm was holding me securely so I didn't slide off the sled.

The speed with which we began to ascend was incredible; the air rushing past us caused my eyes to water. My hand began to slip on the iron bar, and I couldn't move to re-establish my grip. Would Scar be able to hold me, I wondered frantically, when my fingers let go? I didn't have to worry about it for long, for suddenly we were free of the tunnel and airborne. I saw the ground rising up before me and had only a moment to think _this will hurt! _before we struck snow—

The sled shuddered to one side, and I was dislodged violently and hurtled into the air. Impact with the ground stole my breath and jarred my body so that I cried out, and I tumbled over and over until coming up against something hard. For a moment I could only lay there, face down and buried in achingly cold snow, willing my body to remember how to breathe. I rolled over tentatively; crying out again as something in my side vehemently protested the movement—cracked or broken ribs. Struggling to a sitting position, I noticed then the quietness of the night; the only sound I could hear was that of my harsh breathing. I craned my neck to look around and found that I was at the bottom of a hill and had landed against the frosted-encrusted wall of a building. Judging from the marks of my passage in the snow, I'd been thrown from the top of the hill. I could see nothing of Scar, or Celtic, or the sled.

I'd just gained my feet unsteadily when the world around me trembled and sent me back down to my knees. I tried and failed to maintain upright against the violent upheaval of the ground; I knew then that the bomb below had detonated, and the earth shuddered in its wake. Would the ground I lay on crater, I wondered in fear, and would I be pulled back down to that abyss, to that hell?

Moments later, the trembling of the ground began to diminish, and I got back to my feet slowly and painfully. Apparently the explosion had been far enough down as to not wreak havoc on the surface, or perhaps it hadn't been as large an explosion as I'd anticipated. Either way, I was still alive, and that was a good thing.

I leaned back against the building, struggling against the agony in my side to breathe, and found my eyes wandering to the expanse of the night sky above me, glittering with stars. I was still alive, I realized, and tears spilled over my ears to become cold and solid on my cheeks.

I had survived.

A sober thought intruded on my revelation—what about the predators? What would they do now that we were free? I was a little frightened on this issue, for even though they'd let me escape from the temple with them, they had methodically murdered most of my expedition group before my very eyes. I sighed, and it created a cloud of steam in the chill air, another grim reminder that my trials were not yet over. I'd been exposed to the cold for all of five minutes, and I could already feel the warning tingle of encroaching numbness in my extremities. There was only one way to end this, I decided resolutely, and so I pushed away from the building and began the long trudge back up the hill.

It was a painful affair, and I had to stop often because of the torment my ribs caused me. When finally I'd gained the incline, I was breathing heavily. Immediately I spotted the sled; it lay on its side in a pile of snow that lined one of the other buildings. The shotgun lay not far off, and so I made my way to it and picked it up. After a cursory examination I found that it was still useable, and so I leaned it against my shoulder. I was scouting the area for tracks or familiar bodies when a sound thundered all around me, echoing in the stillness.

Scar's cannon.

_No, no, no, no, NO! _I thought as I began half-run, half-hobble towards the sound. No way that those aliens survived, no way they made it up here. But then I remembered the claw marks I'd seen in the ice tunnel and the mucous that had covered the control panel of the sled, and I felt something very ominous and heavy settle in the pit of my stomach. I rounded a small shack with a lopsided sign proclaiming _"Liquor"_ and found myself abruptly face to face with a nightmare.

It was an alien, but this was like none of the others I'd seen. It was huge, at least twenty feet in height, with a unique build I hadn't seen yet. Its head was markedly different from that of the others, for it had a horned crest along the top. It walked upright, on two legs, but had many other limbs aside from that. Its tail was whipping to and fro, and it must have been at least as long as the creature was tall. And flailing about from where it was adjoined to the creatures crest was the shattered length of a thick, barbed chain.

Scar and Celtic were flanking it, one on either side; as I watched Scar's cannon fired twice in quick succession, blasting holes in the side of the huge alien. Simultaneously Celtic was attacking with his shuriken, in a flurry of swift throws. The alien screamed, a horrendous sound, as its blood welled forth to stain the pristine snow it stood on. Too quickly to follow it lashed out with its tail, and the blow caught Scar mid-chest and launched him into the air. Celtic, anticipating a similar attack, dodged to the side, but the alien twisted around and smashed him with one of its arms. Celtic too was thrown aside, landing beyond my line of vision; the alien threw back its head and screamed its fury.

I don't remember making a noise, although I must have, for suddenly the creature's head swiveled in my direction and it hissed. And with certain terror I knew it was going to come for me, for I was the last one standing.

**xXx**

_**A/N: **__T__here are two endings for this, because I intend on writing a sequel. The first ending will be tie off the story; the alternate ending is the intro into the sequel. So you can take your pick of endings, and hopefully be satisfied with them._

_Thanks again for all your support!_


	11. Eleven

_**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **__Here be the first ending to this story. I'd like to dedicate this story in its entirety to my beloved __**Drakonlily**__ (my partner in crime in our AvP Mary Sue, and who has been a pinnacle of support for me throughout this entire story), __**Chocobo Goddess**__ (for being as wonderful as she is), as well as __**GuardingEternity, Scarlet-Moonlight, Golden Wind, Aewnaur, Abbey Normal, and zodiac**__ for offering me their support throughout every chapter. Heartfelt thanks go out to everyone else who reviewed as well, because without all your helpful comments this would have been stuck at the first chapter._

_If you're interested in the sequel, please check out the alternate ending to be posted soon!_

**xXx**

The alien took its time in approaching, for what reason did it have really to hurry? I couldn't outrun it, and I was fairly certain that should I actually escape and hide somewhere it would tear apart this whaling station and find me anyways. Either way I looked at it, I was totally and completely screwed, but that didn't stop me from backing quickly away as it took one slow, confident step at a time towards me. From its wounds seeped forth caustic blood and the night was filled with the sound of steaming snow as said blood fell to the earth. Celtic and Scar had done considerable damage to the alien as far as I could tell, but it didn't seem to be in enough pain as for it to be a hindrance.

Which made me realize how futile any resistance on my behalf would be; I lifted the shotgun anyways, shucked a shell into the chamber, and fired—the shot struck the beast in the side, and a small spray of blood spewed forth. The alien shook its head, the attached chain swinging about as a result, and merely deepened its guttural hiss before resuming its approach. I reloaded the shotgun and fired again, missing entirely. It was too late now to flee, for the creature was almost upon me. And so I decided to do the only thing I could do—keep shooting and pray for a quick death, a painless death; the chances of that, I knew numbly, were slim..

I pumped another shell into place and aimed for a different area, and when I pulled the trigger my shot ricocheted harmlessly off the hard chitin of the alien's skull. I swallowed against the tightness in my throat, for the alien was now within easy striking distance of me and had paused. It knew it had me, it knew that my life could be extinguished at any moment; I felt a sudden rush of fury then as I reloaded desperately, took aim, and fired once more. This shot struck the area where its monstrous head was adjoined to its body; more blood erupted to fall and melt the snow, and this time the alien screeched and clawed at its wound.

Grim satisfaction rose in me then, for I'd hurt it. My jubilation, however, was short lived as from the corner of my vision I caught sight of the long length of the alien's tail hurtling towards me. I had just begun to leap back as it struck me in the midsection; I heard the tell tale sound of bones breaking as I was tossed violently into the air. I struck the earth on my back and skidded several feet before coming to a halt. Breathing was suddenly agony, and I knew then that if my ribs hadn't been broken before, they were now. The ground shook beneath the steps of the alien as it neared, and I tried to roll over, tried to get up before it got to me.

On my feet again, I raised my gaze to find that the alien was preoccupied by something other than me—Scar and Celtic. Not just them, I abruptly noticed, but others like them. All around us, figures were shaping themselves out of the air, letting fall whatever cloak it was that kept them hidden from sight. Celtic, in a blur of movement, let fly his spear, and as it embedded itself deep in the side of the alien it screamed. As one the rest of the hunters attacked, some using cannons like Scar's, other utilizing shurikens or other weapons I hadn't yet seen in action. It was not a given battle, not by any means, for the alien retaliated with startling swiftness, impaling one of the creatures and removing others entirely from the fight with another sweep of its tale. Awed, I took several halting steps backward, only to be startled as from either side of me more hunters stepped forth, their invisibility falling from them like water.

They paid me no heed, but stalked forth to join the battle. A part of me was screaming that it would be wise from me to get away from here, far away, and so when I finally I could tear my gaze from the horrific spectacle before me, I began to weave my way around the buildings at a painful, staggering run. Would the predators be able to subdue the alien? I had no idea; common sense dictated I get as much distance between myself, the alien, and the hunters as I could. Yes, Scar had saved my life, but Celtic would have taken it in turn, and who was to say which of the two the rest of their race took after? I'd avoided death so narrowly so many times that now I realized how really fortunate I had been, and I would not take any more chances.

I _would_ make it out of this alive.

So I made my way through the abandoned whaling station, heading for where we as an expedition had parked the massive snow crawlers upon arriving here. With one of them, I could make it quickly to where the massive icebreaker,_ The_ _Piper Maru_, had anchored only a couple of miles from this island. Weyland had given the captain specific orders upon our disembarking that they were to remain where they were for forty eight hours in the case of radio silence on our—the expedition's—behalf. I wasn't sure how much time had passed since radio contact had been severed between _The Piper Maru_ and our expedition group, but it couldn't have been forty eight hours … could it?

The snowcrawlers were exactly where they'd been parked, and I approached the nearest one with a breathed prayer of relief. Its lights had been left on, no doubt to illuminate the area for the drilling crew as they unloaded all their equipment they had brought, only to discover they didn't need. I pulled hard on the latch of the door; it wouldn't open at first, having stiffened with the cold. Having gained entry I climbed painfully into the cab and collapsed in the driver's seat, clutching my side for a moment in order to breathe easier. This wasn't the first time I'd had broken ribs; my second attempt ever at climbing an ice fall I'd fallen and broken three. I knew that the longer I went without medical attention the pain would get to the point where I would be immobilized. Fueled by this, I fumbled around the steering column for the key. When I turned it, I was met with the grim sound of a dying battery. The engine struggled to turn over, and I urged it to engage with a fervent whisper. It was too far gone, however, and with a despairing sound I let my head fall against the steering wheel before remembering there were other crawlers.

I awkwardly got down from the cab, resting a moment before making my way around the machine and crossing the small distance to the next one. After fighting with the door, I climbed up and tried the ignition only to find the same problem—the lights had been left on for too long and the battery had not enough power to turn the engine over. There were only two more crawlers besides this one, and one of them had its lights on. The other was dark, and I decided my best bet would be to try my luck with it as I was positive the other wouldn't start. Climbing down again, I ran through every offensive word in my vocabulary, trying not to panic and failing miserably.

I didn't see the predator until it was right in front of me, and so startled was I that I fell backwards to land, undignified, in the snow. Frozen, heart in my throat, I gazed up at the unmasked countenance of the hunter. Not until it crouched before me, growling softly, did I realize it was Scar. The large alien must have been subdued, I concluded, for Scar to be here alive. Clutching the tread of the crawler, I pulled myself painfully to my feet. Scar rose as I did, head tilted to the side in that oh-so-familiar manner. I wasn't entirely certain whether I should be afraid of him or not, so I settled for feeling overly apprehensive and merely eyed him warily until out of the corner of my eye, movement caught my attention. I looked to the side then to find that several predators, Celtic included, stood some several feet away. Some were masked, some weren't, but they were all regarding us with an intensity that made me distinctly uncomfortable.

Scar's throaty chitter drew my gaze back to him. He reached back one handed and took from his back his spear. It was in its compact form, and inclining his head, prompting the long lengths of his strange hair to fall across his shoulders, he held it out to me. I hesitated only a moment before reaching out and taking it from him, knowing with a strange pang of an indefinable emotion that it was meant to be a token of respect as much as a way of saying farewell. Our roads, intertwined through chaos and misfortune, would part here forever more; while I wasn't deeply saddened by this, I did realize that at some point I had stopped thinking of Scar as a creature and come to regard him as a companion worthy of trust.

"Thanks," I said, and I meant it. If he hadn't troubled himself to assist me, to take me along with him, I would have died in the temple—I owed my life to him several times over, despite the fact that our initial encounter had been … unpleasant. He raised his head again, reached out with one hand to touch the alien tooth I wore around my neck. With his other hand fisted, he thumped himself on the chest; now familiar with this gesture I nodded with a small, faint smile. Before he withdrew his hand, he rapped me on the head with his knuckles, and gave a small trill of laughter.

A growl from one of the predators watching us prompted him to step back from me. He bowed his head once more; I recognized it then as a sign of respect, and so I did the same. And then, with a final rumble, Scar turned and strode over to the others of his race. They dispersed as he reached them, as one turning and leaving me, leaving this place. I had no idea how they'd arrived on this planet, and though curious I didn't follow them. My place was here.

I watched until they'd disappeared from view, hidden by the buildings of the whaling station. Funny, how familiar the spear felt to me, held tightly in my hand. When the last of the hunters was gone, I walked around the crawler and headed for the one that didn't have its lights on. Climbing up into its cab with agonizing slowness, I was acutely aware that if it wouldn't start, I would have a serious problem. Holding my breath, I turned the key in the ignition.

-the engine sputtered twice before firing to life.

I began to cry then, triumphant tears, happy tears. Flicking on the interior lights I checked the fuel gauge and found that the journey from _The Piper Maru _to this point had barely even touched the reserves. The heater, located in the middle of the crawler's dash, was spewing forth hot air, and as I sat weeping, my body slowly began to warm. When my extremities began to tingle painfully as they thawed, I shifted the crawler into gear with a lurch and began to pilot it out of the whaling station and back up the steep incline that led to a gradual descent and then the ocean of ice. The fact that the icebreaker may have left dampened my jubilation somewhat; I held my breath as I crested the hill ...

Down below, anchored in the midst of the ice she had broken, was _The Piper Maru._ Her lights flooded the arctic night around her, beckoning me closer. I stared at the sight only a moment longer before letting the crawler begin the descent. Once I was onboard the icebreaker I would be flooded with questions, but I wouldn't tell them the truth. How could I, when what I knew barely scratched the surface of what had transpired? No, I'd think of something else to tell them, think of some other way to explain how I was the only survivor. Nothing I could think of would ever rival the truth in farfetchedness, besides.

I remembered then my earlier promise to myself, and wondered if there was any alcohol on board _The Piper Maru._ I had a lot to celebrate, and even more to mourn.

**xXx**

_**Endnotes: **__While in discussion today with a classmate who is a huge fan of everything Yautja, I learned that when the Predators go a-hunting a Xenomorph Queen, they do so with great numbers and armed to the teeth, and most of the time they lose more than half their number. It was ludicrous to therefore assume, I was told rather indignantly, that Scar and Lex stood any chance whatsoever with against the Queen. This made sense to me –hence I included the rest of the Yautja._

_Onwards to the alternate ending …_


	12. Alternate Ending

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **_This ending leads directly into the sequel. Thanks again to all who reviewed!_

**xXx**

_RUN! _Screamed my brain, watching as the insidious bulk of the alien drew ever closer. I saw, from the corner of my eye, Celtic rising from where he had landed, and Scar approaching with a limp from where he had been thrown. Although I was by now fairly certain that it would take more than these two predators to bring down the alien, I decided to aid them in the only way I could. I lifted the shotgun, pumped a shell into place, and fired all in one breath. The shot struck the alien where its head joined its neck with a small spatter of caustic blood; a minor injury, to be sure, but the alien reared its head back and hissed its ire.

I took the opportunity to turn heel and flee.

It was after me in a heartbeat; the thunder of its pursuing footsteps trembling the ground I ran across. My accelerated breathing only further irritated my injured ribs, and I had to move at a staggering gait because of this. I had no idea where I was going, was only aware of the fact that there was very, very little separating me from death this time around. I careened wildly around the corner of a building, gripping the sides to stop me from falling on the ice. I'd only just let go when the alien screamed again, and I whirled around just in time to see Scar twisting through the air and driving his spear directly through the alien's skull. He landed in a tumble several feet away and came up fast. The alien staggered to the side, tossing its head in agony, the attached chain whipping about, and it clawed furiously at the spear which protruded from both sides of its body. Too late I realized it was falling, and too late did I spin about and make to run—the alien fell heavily into the building, knocking down the walls and sending debris flying everywhere.

I fell into a crouch, shielding my head from pieces of wood and tin; as the alien struck the earth, still screaming, its tail came hurtling towards me in its throes of agony. I had no chance to dodge it; it hit me mid-section and launched me through the air. I curled in on myself as to soften the impact of my landing, and when I did strike the earth I landed on my side and skidded several feet before coming to halt. Gasping, I struggled to my feet and looked around frantically for my shotgun, which I'd dropped upon being hit by the alien. It was nowhere to be seen, and my eyes were drawn then to the scene before me. The alien was on its feet again, and had managed to snap the spear that impaled it in half. Part of me was horrified that it had survived such a direct blow to the head; the other part cursed me for being a naïve fool. Scar was firing at it again with his cannon, backing away steadily. The alien followed, blood streaming forth from its wounds to land steaming on the snow below. So intent was it on Scar that it didn't see Celtic approaching from the side, spear in hand.

Celtic leapt lithely into the air, intent on impaling the creature like his companion had. Suddenly the alien twisted about, arms flailing, catching Celtic in mid-flight and throwing him back. His spear was knocked from his grasp and it spun end over end to be buried in a snow bank several feet from where I stood. I rushed over immediately to secure it, digging frantically through the snow until my gloved hands came in contact with the hard, smooth haft. I swiveled about, not knowing what I would do with the weapon, and when my gaze fell again upon the predators and their prey I gasped in dismay.

The alien had impaled Celtic directly through the chest and had lifted him high above ground with a simple flexing of its tail. His neon blood rained down from the wound to garishly stain the pristine snow. Scar was circling the alien, trying to flank it; the alien shrieked before its hidden jaws erupted forth, piercing Celtic's mask and the skull underneath. More blood and other, thicker pieces of gore spattered the ground, and with a flick of its tail the alien discarded the corpse. Scar struck then, several rounds fired from his cannon in quick succession, and as the alien wheeled about to retaliate he darted quickly beyond its reach. It was completely focused on the sole surviving predator now, and while I had no longer had the shotgun, I did have Celtic's spear.

I made a decision then, one that was ludicrous, but one that was demanded of me. I could have run from here and tried to leave everything that had occurred over the last long hours of my life behind. It would have been futile anyways, I concluded numbly, because if I fled and Scar fell, the alien would inevitably hunt me down. A second after I'd steeled my nerves and hardened my resolve, I heard Scar roar, and my eyes moved from the spear I held to the two combatants before me. Scar had been taken down—I wasn't sure how—and as he struggled to his hands and knees, the alien's tail hovered above his back, waiting for the right instant to strike—

Suddenly I was shouting, running full tilt towards the creature. It wasn't deterred by my charge; its tail lifted and trembled in eager anticipation, and at that moment I shoved the spear as hard and as far into its torso as I could manage. It reared back, shrieking, and I stumbled around its thrashing body, trying to avoid being hit. There was no way I could avoid the blood that ran in rivers from its body; as I scrambled out from beneath I felt sudden searing agony down the length of my back. Blinded by the pain, I never saw what it was that struck me next, but once again I found myself airborne.

I must have blacked out upon landing, because quite suddenly I was aware of lying face down in snow with pain like I'd never known caressing my entire spine. It took me two attempts to roll over, and when I did there was a jagged, lancing sensation in my side that informed me that if my ribs hadn't been broken before, they most certainly were now. Wheezing in an attempt to draw breath, I turned my head to see what it was I expected to see—Scar dead, and the alien triumphant above him.

What met my eyes was nothing of the sort. Scar wasn't dead; he stood before the screaming black beast, and I saw that his cannon had been knocked free from his shoulder. He held his shuriken in a ready stance, but what prompted me to struggle into an upright position were the other hunters appearing at random, surrounding the alien. They were uncloaking themselves, shaping themselves out of the air, and there were more of them than I could count; some were masked, others not. They began their assault on the alien, some using cannons like Scar's, others wielding weaponry I hadn't yet seen. The alien wasn't by any means daunted by this; I watched in horrified awe as it impaled one of the hunters and removed three more from battle with a single swipe of its arms.

Watching, I tried to gain my feet and failed. I simply did not have the strength, and so I sank numbly to my knees. As finally the alien faltered beneath the combined strength of the hunters, as finally it tottered before falling heavily to the earth, I wondered with vague detachment which would kill me first—my wounds or the cold arctic air I was exposed to. So lost in my agonized haze was I that time passed without my noticing; I opened my eyes suddenly to find Scar standing above me. Blinking my vision to clear the red haze, I saw that beyond him the others of his race had gathered around the alien's corpse, and were taking from it trophies.

"Lex." Sebastian's voice under Scar's command returned my eyes to him. I realized then that we weren't alone, for appearing beside Scar was another of his kind. I got to my feet, and it was a torturous affair. Finally standing, swaying slightly, I studied the new unmasked arrival. This hunter seemed even more daunting than the two I had been in previous company with; standing as I was he towered over me even more than Scar. He trilled in the manner I was familiar with, the sound deep and guttural, and his mandibles moved slightly with the movement. Something in his face, in the dark eyes that regarded me evenly, in the long fall of almost pure white hair hinted to me that this hunter had seen many, many more years than either Scar or Celtic had. His tusks were notched, and a myriad of scars decorated his strange skin. He wore several pieces of armor from which hung strange and outlandish skulls and bones, and falling from where it was attached to his shoulders was a heavy, draped, crimson cloak. In one hand he held something that appeared to be a cross between a staff and a spear, with several rigid, curved blades rising from the area near the middle.

He remained utterly still, the only movement the slight twitching of his mandibles, but he didn't have to do anything to frighten me. I was already terrified. Scar moved to stand beside me, growling as he did so, and with one hand under my chin he turned my face to the side, exposing to the elder hunter the marks I had been given. He moved his fingers to my wrist, and turned my arm to expose the scratches and burns that blemished my skin from palm to elbow. Finally he pried my shirt away from the wound at my shoulder, but as he did so it pulled abruptly at the point on my back where fabric and flesh had become one. With a muted sound of agony, I dropped to my knees as the world darkened around me.

Only with Scar's steady hand on my upper arm did I manage to get to my feet again. I raised my gaze to meet the piercing eyes of the elder, wondering what judgement it was I awaited. I wasn't going to remain conscious much longer, I knew. At my side Scar jerked suddenly as if in pain but made no sound; my attention drifted to the elder as he lifted the strange spear and held it out before me. The length of it retracted with a speed that made me gasp; what he held now considerably smaller and deadlier looking, with a small chain that dangled from the grip. I stared at a moment, before lifting the arm that Scar didn't have a hold of and wrapping my shaking fingers around it. The elder relinquished it after a moment, growling at me, and inclined his head. It was a gesture of respect, I realized, and this weapon was being given to me as an acknowledgement of those I'd killed and all I'd survived.

"Thank you," I murmured, bowing my own head, feeling strangely honored.

Scar made a sound then, a scream of suffering, and he clenched my arm so tightly I cried out before he staggered away. The elder chittered as Scar clutched his midsection; from the corner of my eye I saw other predators, drawn by the commotion, quickly approaching. Scar fell to one knee with a strangled snarl, and from his chest there erupted something grotesque, something nightmarish, something _alive—_

"No," I whispered in distraught disbelief. I knew what it was, I _knew_ … suddenly the other hunters were surrounding the still roaring Scar, obscuring my view of him. I tried to step around, tried to see what was happening, but the elder was suddenly before me, shaking his head. As I tried to brush past him he pushed me back roughly with one hand to the chest; I stumbled but didn't fall. Scar was being taken away, his body supported by many of the other predators, but I still couldn't see the thing that had burst forth from him … I made an attempt to follow, but again the elder inserted himself in my path, giving me a warning snarl. Hopelessly I watched over his shoulder as my companion was carried out of sight, and when I could see no more of him the elder stepped back from me. For one long moment we regarded each other, regal leader to bedraggled and broken human, and with a final rattling growl he spun about and stalked in the direction of the other predators.

I didn't follow. I knew it wouldn't be permitted. Instead I stared after the elder long after he'd vanished, my mind trying to comprehend all I'd seen and all I'd been exposed to. Deep in my core a constant torturous agony had settled; I had to find warmth, I thought dazedly, I had to find help.

I took one step, and then another, before succumbing to merciful oblivion.

**xXx**

Restriction was the first thing I became aware of; my arms and legs were bound tightly together and I was effectively immobilized. Sluggish alarm filled me, and when I tried to move my limbs I found I lacked the strength. Sounds were filling my ears, echoes and bits of voices that I struggled to piece together. When I realized they were human voices, and that I could understand some of what was being said, I fought the heavy lethargy that encompassed me and opened my eyes.

There were lights directly above my face, and they were bright enough to hurt. I rolled my head to the side, and found that there was a man there, a man filling a syringe from a small glass bottle. I tried to speak, couldn't, and tried again with a mouth that felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

"Where …?" I croaked.

The answer came not from the man with the needle, but from another person standing on the other side of me. I turned my head to see a woman standing there with short dark hair and even darker eyes that seemed concerned. She laid a gentle hand against my unmarked cheek and said, "You're on _The Piper Maru_, Ms. Woods. They just brought you in ten minutes ago."

_The Piper Maru_. I closed my eyes in relief, and opened them again as I felt the distant prick of the syringe in my flesh. "You're suffering from the first stages of hypothermia, Ms Woods," said the man as he emptied the contents of the needle into me, "You're lucky they found you when they did. You're in rough shape besides that. What happened to you down there?"

_Death_, I wanted to tell them. _Aliens._ Instead my mind flipped about as frantically as it could in its drugged state, searching for a suitable excuse. "Explosion," I mumbled finally, fighting the urge to drift away again, to let myself fall into whatever void beckoned. "Cavern … collapsed …"

"We gathered that much," the woman said. Her fingers had moved to the other side of my face and were tracing gently the marks Scar had made. "What we don't know is how the explosion came about."

I was saved from formulating an answer by the man, who had picked up something from my bedside table. It was the weapon I'd been given by the elder, and the man tilted it to examine it closer in the over head light. "Did you find this down there?" He asked me curiously."

"Yes …"

It was very hard for me to keep my eyes open, though I tried. Noticing this, the man laid the weapon down and gave me a warm smile. "Sleep, Ms. Woods. You need it, and you can tell us your story once you've healed."

_My story_, I thought with bitter irony. _You wouldn't believe my story …_

And then I was adrift again in a world without pain.

**xXx**

When next I awoke, it was to find the man and woman in the room with me again. My head still felt fuzzy, and my entire body was numb. I was still sick, I knew, so I laid limply and listened to their voices, which sounded as though they were coming to me from within a long tunnel.

"-swears he saw something in the mess hall." Said the woman. I felt distantly my left arm being bound in gauze.

"He drinks too much," replied the man dryly; his voice came from the foot of my bed.

"Mm."

There was a pause, and then the man asked, "What did this something look like?"

The woman chuckled, and it was a sound of incredulousness. "He said it was manlike, but that it moved like it was a part of the air, or something. He's dead serious about it, too. He got upset when the others told him he needed to lay off the rye …"

Listening, I felt something cold and heavy settle within the core of me. _It can't be, it can't_, I said silently over and over again. It couldn't be.

The woman had finished bandaging my arm; she gave me a gentle pat on the cheek before I heard her footsteps walking away from my bed. She and the man were still talking, but their voices soon faded from earshot. Sudden and inescapable weariness descended on me again, and as it washed over me I let myself believe that what I'd heard was just a dream …

And as sleep tightened its welcome tendrils around me, I told myself that the familiar, comforting, rumbling growl that filled the room in which I lay was only a figment of my imagination.

It had to be.

**xXx**

_**Endnotes: **__I hope you liked this ending! The sequel, entitled __**Sacrifice Theory**__, will continue right from this point. Thanks again to everyone for reading!_


End file.
